


Dangerous Confessions

by xenous



Category: Ant & Dec RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Grooming, Hand Jobs, M/M, Self-Harm, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenous/pseuds/xenous
Summary: Ant has been teaching English in a high school for a while now but the moment he lays eyes on a shy, cute boy he instantly knows he needs to get to know him better.Teacher!Ant/Student!Dec fic - Dec is 16 and Ant is early twenties





	1. What's Your Name Again?

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I have imported from wattpad: <https://www.wattpad.com/story/141336566-dangerous-confessions>
> 
> **This fic contains intimate relationships between a teacher and student and will probably get quite dark at points - mentions of grooming and self harm/attempted suicide. If this is something you are not comfortable with then don't read.**

***Ant's POV***

After you read this, there is absolutely no doubt from my part that you will sure and positively think that I'm sick - sick beyond repair - and the truth is I can't really blame you. I can't, and I surely won't. I've done terrible, unforgivable things for which I've taken full responsibility now, and for which I'm paying with tears, and yet, I don't believe they're worth mentioning since what I'm about to tell you is far greater than all my crimes in the past.  
  
After reading this, whether you think I'm the biggest pervert on earth and that I used my teacher role to take advantage of him, I can hardly care. Things actually started out that way, but soon enough, they morphed into a far more complicated puzzle I found myself pretty much unable to solve.  
  
But please, allow me to tell the story from the very beginning.  
  
I have to admit it; the first time I saw him, I knew right away I had to fuck him.  
  
I knew since the very first moment I laid eyes on him that I wanted to have that precious little thing in my bed at all costs, no matter what. No matter how many times I've swore to myself I wouldn't do it again.  
  
Steven was supposed to be my last one. The stereo-typical jock, I'd call him arrogant and impulsively violent; always picking on the weaker kids. Also, he really thought himself a ladies' man...stupid as hell too. Pretty but stupid, so I thought I'd teach him a lesson, and not exactly an English lesson.  
  
"I hate all you faggots!" I heard him once say to one of the poor kids he used to bully around for absolutely no reason at all, without even knowing if he was gay or not. However, once I worked my magic on him, he was begging for me to fuck him. And fuck him I did. The pictures I took of him in such compromising positions were all it took for him to keep his mouth shut. Now and again he still tried to get close to me, but it was useless. I had completely lost all interest in him. Steven meant nothing to me. I didn't give two shits about him, or any of the others that willingly fell into my arms after some little gifts and a bit of sweet talk. But with _him_...with him, it was different.  
  
It all started out that insignificant day he came into my office while I was innocently grading papers with the purpose of discussing something related to his English class.  
I hadn't seen one like him in quite a long time: thin, lean body, gorgeous face, sexy lips, but what captivated me the most were those big, bright blue-green eyes. They gave away what he was so desperately trying to hide behind that fake smile, and that's when I thought he was going to be one of my easiest ones. Little did I know there wasn't anything _easy_ about him.  
  
Standing right in front of me, dressed simply in worn jeans and a black t-shirt, I could see his mouth moving and the sound of his sweet voice was resounding on my ears. However, no meaning in his speech could actually get to my brain, for all I could think of was a number of unspeakable acts I'd like him to perform just for me, most of them including the use of those plump red lips of his.  
  
"Mr. McPartlin?" He suddenly called for my attention.  
"I'm listening." I lied.  
"Sir, I was wondering if it's possible if-"  
"What's your name again?"  
He shrieked. "Declan, sir. Declan Donnelly. I- um...I'm in your English class." He stuttered nervously. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.  
"Yes, yes. I know who you are." Lying again, "What I don't know yet is exactly what you are wasting my time for?"  
He lowered his sight and let out a small sigh. "It's about the book report on 'Mrs. Dalloway' due next Friday, sir."  
"Aye. What about it." I was fumbling with the stack of papers on my desk, pretending not to pay more attention to him than absolutely needed. I couldn't have him guessing about my intentions now, could I?  
  
He remained silent for a moment before breathing in and out again. I was carefully watching him out of the corner of my eye and I noticed his hands were beginning to shake. Still not daring to look up at me, he muttered, "Sir, I was wondering if you could give me an extension on the project."  
  
I smiled to myself. I needed to think up the perfect and most careful way to handle this golden opportunity.  
  
"Take a seat, Declan." I waited until he did. "Can you please tell me the reason you haven't finished a task that was assigned nearly two weeks ago?"  
"Hmm, sir, my other teachers are a bit too demanding, and I have been so busy lately with my other school work that I just haven't been able to-"  
"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah. I assume you're aware of the fact that it would be very unfair for the students who turn their papers on time, aren't you?"  
"Yes, sir, I know, but-"  
"In that case, you also know that I can't make any exceptions."  
"Sir, I'm begging you. Please, I can't fail this subject!  
"Then turn your paper on time, Mr. Donnelly."  
  
I dismissed him without another word and returned to my work, but it didn't take me long to realise it was impossible for me to concentrate. Truth is, I couldn't get that boy off my mind even hours after he had left. He wasn't like any of the others I'd had, and if I didn't think my dick was the one talking, I may have even said he was special.  
  
It was then that my elaborated plan to get my pretty little student into my bed started to take form. I kept thinking how easy it should be.  
  
Mind you, he was the kind of student that usually goes unnoticed, even for quite an attentive teacher such as me. I couldn't quite recall having seen that gorgeous face before, and I had to check my registers over and over again until I finally found his name in one of my early classes. There wasn't a single red mark on it; he always arrived on time, good grades, turned in his homework on time, and it still didn't ring any bell. Therefore, it wasn't all that difficult to figure out who I was dealing with.  
  
He was surely the kind of student that moves around school trying to stay invisible; the kind that picks his seat in the corner to avoid all human contact; speaking only when absolutely necessary and exclusively to certain people, most of them teachers. The reason? I didn't know, but I sure as hell wanted to find out.  
  
I knew perfectly well that he was lying about the reason he hadn't finished his book report, and for a brief minute I even started to believe the way I treated him was a bit too harsh, but it wouldn't have worked if it had been any other way.  
  
I have to admit that not long after he had closed the door behind him, I started having second thoughts about the whole idea. Then I found myself daydreaming about him, picturing his beautiful face again, which had never happened; nobody ever had had that effect on me. If there was still any consciousness left in me, that little voice telling me not to do it, it vanished completely in that exact same moment.  
  
In fact, I could hardly wait to see him again. I could hardly wait to put my plan in action, and I found myself wishing it was Friday already.


	2. Right On Time

I'm not going to lie - I wasn't lying before and I'm not about to start at this point of my story _ never in my life had I been so intrigued by someone before with so little interaction. What I'm trying to say is: all Declan Donnelly had to do was walk into my office with his sweet personality and sexy looks to have me fantasising about him all damn night long.  
  
Truth is, despite my first impression of him, the little fucker was really special; it didn't take me long to figure it out.  
  
***  
  
Since we were in the middle of December, it was a cold Friday morning. It was about ten to seven when I parked my car at my usual spot and turned off the engine. I grabbed my bags, then directed toward the main entrance; I hadn't been walking long when I noticed a dark figure sitting on the concrete steps. Crouched over an old-looking book, was my sweet Declan, so concentrated on his reading that he didn't even realise I was standing right next to him until he heard my voice.  
  
"Right on time, as usual, Mr. Donnelly." As if I had been keeping record, but my comment probably made Declan think I actually had been.  
He looked up, startled. "Good morning, sir," he closed his book and stood up at once.  
"What were you reading? Anything good?" We started walking together toward the double wooden doors.  
"Aye, J.D. Salinger's 'The Catcher in the Rye', sir," he said humbly.  
"Interesting choice. Excellent taste."  
  
His frozen cheeks acquired a bright pink colour that contrasted with his naturally pale complexion; his perfect eyes looked down to the floor again in order to hide it, but it was far too late to hide it from _me_ , and that embarrassed him even more. "Thanks, sir. He's my favourite writer."  
  
The hallway resembled a river with all the students hurrying to avoid being late, moving in every possible direction which, in time, served as the perfect excuse for me to get close to him. "I'll take a mental note of that," I told him. Then, I swear to God I just couldn't help myself. I couldn't help wrapping my arm around his delicate shoulders, just to satisfy my hunger for him a little bit. Just to feel him close at least for a split second, even if there was no time at all to take in any details such as the warmth of his body, the sweet scent of his hair, anything.  
  
I felt him flinch at once...but then...then he did something that left me absolutely dazed.  
  
He didn't get away from me. No, he instead looked up and flashed me the sweetest smile I had even seen instead...  
  
"See you in class, Declan."  
  
Regaining myself just in time, I let go of him and walked toward the teacher's lounge that was located right in front of us, luckily for me. Only after reaching into my pockets for my keys, did I notice the frowning boy leaning against the door frame. It was Steven giving me the coldest look I'd ever gotten. It didn't escape my eye the way he looked at Declan either. He remained silent, but his piercing blue eyes were saying enough as they followed his small, delicate figure disappearing among all the people rushing here and there to get to their early classes.  
  
"Out of my way, Steven."  
  
He stepped away and I opened the door just to slam it noisily behind me. Finally, I was able to take a deep breath and readjust the tie around my neck that had been suffocating me for the past few minutes.  
  
In any other case, with any other person, I know perfectly well that I would have been in total control of myself. I had done it a number of times before. Declan was far from being my first, and I wasn't used to making any kind of mistakes. Oh no, I was usually careful enough to let my objective make the first move for obvious reasons, and only at the right time in the right place. But like I just said, this specific objective could cause quite an effect on me.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. McPartlin." I heard all of a sudden. It was Professor Cowell, the eldest teacher still working at the school. Almost sixty years old and still on duty. He was comfortably sitting on the couch, in front of a small coffee table, reading his morning newspaper. "Is everything okay? You look a little...agitated."  
"Aye, Simon, I'm fine, thank you very much. It's just that I overslept this morning and thought I was running late, but actually, I'm right on time!"  
  
I poured myself a cup of steaming coffee, trying to act as natural as possible, even though my hands were still shaking and little droplets of sweat had formed on my forehead.  
  
"Well, that's just perfect. Maybe we can talk a bit more about your lack of responsibility over lunch today."  
"Sure, Simon. I'm twenty-four years old, but I'm still glad to be scolded by you."  
  
Once in my classroom, I took my seat behind the desk as all the students sat in their respective places as well. Just as I had imagined, I spotted Declan sat on an abandoned desk in the far corner, next to the window. I usually focused my attention on the first row, which was where the participatory students always sat. That was probably why I haven't noticed him before, I thought.  
  
"Good morning, everyone. Today's topic is Modernism. Oh, yeah...difficult and complicated Modernism. So, here's the deal: take notes of absolutely everything I tell you, and don't feel afraid of asking whatever stupid question you have in those tiny heads 'cause I'm pretty sure next week's midterm exam will be a blood bath."  
  
Class was going smoothly, like it normally does; that is of course, as smoothly as possible considering we were studying 20th century literature. As usual, I had several activities for the day written on my lesson plan, most of them included group work because I imagined I would be far too distracted to stand in front of the class for about 45 minutes talking about literary trends when I could hardly look away from the cute boy on the far side of the room, curled over a notebook. Then, a little idea came to mind.  
  
"Okay, class. We've talked about certain writers which spent most of their lives looking for formal perfectionism. What does this mean?" I decided to ask just to see what kind of response I had. Declan stopped scribbling on his notebook, and then looked up at me curiously.  
  
"Means they needed to have a more active social life..." Who other than the great Steven Mulhern spat as the entire classroom broke out in laughter. I let out a small laugh as well, because that is exactly how you show students like him that they can't get to you that easily.  
  
"Authors of Modernism wrote their works on prose, focusing not on the narrative, but on using the most perfect, elegant and accurate words," a small voice came from the back as all of the kids turned their heads to see who they probably thought, was a new student.  
  
I smiled widely. "Very good, Mr. Donnelly. I'm glad to see that at least one of you has actually learned something."  
  
Declan's full lips curled into the smallest of smiles, but it soon faded away along with the little bit of self-confidence I had manage to build up in him as he heard Steven mumbling under his breath "My point exactly about social life."  
  
Disregarding the comment at once, I kept going. "Take James Joyce, for example. Try to read any of his work and I can bet you won't understand a single paragraph. Why? Well, because first of all, it takes a lot to do that, but also because there is a specific issue with Joyce's narrative; he expresses feelings and emotions only. In fact, one can hardly say he's telling a story. Modernism does not accept the typical structure we find in tales. There might be a beginning, but there might be no end. Same thing happens with authors such as Joseph Conrad, Henry James, D.H. Lawrence, E.M Forster...but what about Virginia Wolf? What could you find in Virginia Wolf's work? What's 'Mrs. Dalloway' about?"  
  
"A boring old lady who thinks herself better than anyone else." Once again, the entire classroom filled with the annoying murmurs of laughter, but Steven hadn't meant to be funny at all with his statement. This time around his tone was blunt and defiant. Those words were meant to be personal.  
  
I grinned. "I have to thank you for that insightful comment, Mr. Mulhern. I'll remember it by the time I'm grading your paper. Now, unless you have a smart comment on the topic or better yet, want to teach it, please remain silent." I paused for a moment. "Declan? What do you think?"  
  
Looking up from his notebook again, his mouth opened for a second and his voice seemed to falter, which I assumed, was due to the fact that everyone was looking at him. To some it was shocking, because I hardly ever ask for someone's opinion in such a direct way.  
  
He finally said, "Uhmm...I don't think she was boring at all, Mr. McPartlin.”  
"I'm listening."  
"Mrs. Dalloway is only a well-structured description of a day in the typical upper-class English lady's life. The narrative is brilliant as well as the technique used by Virginia Wolf."  
"Known as?"  
"Stream of consciousness?"  
"Explain..."  
"It's very common in Modernism, to try to imitate the normal train of thought of any human being, I mean. In this specific case, we can say we are reading what the main character, Clarissa Dalloway, is thinking rather than what she's living."  
  
"Exactly! There you go!"  
  
The bell rang and I had to dismiss the class. Every single student left their homework report on my desk and cleared the classroom in less than a minute. Declan waited until we were alone to get up from his seat and walked toward me while nervously fidgeting with the left sleeve of his sweat shirt. "Sir, I-umm...about the book report-"  
  
"You did great today, Declan."  
"Thank you."  
"Oh, and by the way, I expect to have your paper on my desk first thing Monday morning. You know where my office is." That being said, I left the classroom.  
  
My plan was working just brilliantly. He was beginning to trust me.


	3. It's Okay, Baby

_It's all about the chase_ , I used to say. There was absolutely nothing more pleasing than the entire process of flirting with my boys till the point of no return, 'til they were just unable to take it anymore and ended up falling willingly into my arms, and then into my bed, leaving me with the fake and yet always reliable sensation of "I didn't do anything...and still got everything". The sex part was just the cherry on top of the ice cream, really, but that didn't make it any less enjoyable. Almost like a nice glass of wine after a long day at work.  
  
Why did I do it? It may sound crazy, but I'm a little bit of a risk-taker and being an English Teacher didn't always provide that much of a thrill, following the exact same routine every day, and this is the reason why it all started about two or three years ago. I guess, when it comes down to it, that's actually the only reason why it started: pure fun, adrenaline of danger.  
  
I need to clarify that, as much as I enjoy English Literature, I only really got into teaching to help pay the bills. It's true that I had to work with teenagers every single day, but because of the nature of my child-like personality, it turned out to be quite an easy job. Also, I had a lot of spare time for myself, medical insurance, plus good payment and the opportunity to teach the art of writing. So what else could I have wanted?  
  
Still, it was quite a demanding job. I was a busy man and I barely had time to think about any kind of relationship. Then a young boy named David Walliams came along. He had lost track of my subject after a series of unfortunate family issues and his world basically splitting in two. The year was about to finish and he was desperate to pass the course since he couldn't afford to fail his exams.  
  
Up until this day, that image remains still in my head. I remember the decisive expression on his face when he stood up from his chair across my desk, unconsciously running his hand through his hip and thigh, my eyes following the movement intently; he said he would do absolutely anything in order to get a good grade. _Absolutely anything you want_ , he repeated vehemently. _Just tell me what to do, sir_.  
  
I tried hard to relax in my chair, fighting back the urge to bite my lower lip. David was suddenly looking so damn sexy.  
  
"How far do you want to go?"  
"As far as you want. I don't care," and his eyes told me he wasn't lying.  
"Come here..."  
  
Then everything happened just too quickly. Minutes after, he was sitting on my lap, unbuttoning his shirt. I grinned. But then, as his lips attached to my neck and his hand travelled south until it was working wonders inside my pants, I was moaning loudly in pleasure. That handsome young lad ended up bent over my desk while I pounded into him from behind, tightly holding onto his hips. That wasn't the end of it, I fucked him once or twice in the cleaner's room and everybody was happy. I wasn't as tense anymore and he got a lovely A at the end of the year. He was that good.  
  
But David was just the first of many. What had started out as an accident slowly turned into a structured method with which I could have whoever I wanted, boys, girls...some teachers even, it didn't matter.  
  
I've told this story so many times and to so many people, I can practically see what must be going through your mind right now...and the answer is yes, I'm the biggest bastard on earth and no, I was never afraid of being caught; I thought myself way too smart for that to happen, and for a while, it didn't.  
  
How did I do it? Well, first of all, the objective needed to be carefully chosen. The reason why I keep using this specific word is because I find the other one - 'victim' - way too dramatic. Because despite the fact that they were 'victimised', every single one of my pretty babes enjoyed it just as much as I did; sometimes even more.  
  
Second of all, according to the reasons I had originally chosen him, I picked the most effective way of getting under his skin until there was no way back. The way I behaved, the gestures I had toward them, the words I used, the moves I made were careful and closely directed toward making them believe they needed me in every possible aspect of their life, toward making them believe they were completely lost without me and that is exactly how the persistent need of pleasing me arose.  
  
Sometimes, if I was feeling lucky enough, I would even make them fall in love with me and then dumped their ass in the worst possible way, but it all depended on the first step of my method: the reasons why I had chosen them, I mean, as it happened with Steven Mulhern. The poor little kid was still hanging up on me, writing me the most ridiculous love letters and showing up suddenly in my office, sometimes even at my house to ask why I didn't love him anymore and trying to sneak kisses I would reject.  
  
With Declan it was more than obvious what I needed to do. Friday class had gone pretty well, and I had a very interesting conversation with Professor Cowell at lunch that same day. After two or three well-directed questions I found out he had been his form tutor the previous year; his exact words were "Brilliant kid with such a sad story."  
  
"Sad story?"  
"Didn't you hear? Last year, the poor boy tried to commit suicide."  
  
After hearing that, I felt almost obligated to submerge in the boy's private file for at least a few hours.  
  
***  
  
It was Monday morning; the air was freezing cold and thick outside school because every single bit of concrete was covered by snow. I decided to take refuge in my warm office since I had some paperwork that needed to be taken care of. Classes didn't start for a good half an hour yet. There was a slight knock on the door.  
  
"Come in!"  
  
"Good morning, Mr. McPartlin." Declan's pretty face popped into the room, but he didn't dare coming in. "I'm here to give you my book rep-"  
"Aye, I know why you're here, Declan. But if I recall correctly, I said 'come in'. It's not exactly pleasant to have a conversation with someone while they're standing half way between the corridor and my attention."  
  
It was priceless to appreciate the slight changes in the small boy's features as he was trying to figure out whether I was scolding him or making a joke. He finally decided on the latter as he noticed the smile on my face, then finally stepped into the office, still slowly and carefully, almost as if he knew how dangerous I could be.  
  
"Sir, I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity."  
"Sit down, Mr. Donnelly. I want to clarify that I did not do this for you, I did it because you actually took the trouble of studying and reading the book, unlike most of the students that did turn their papers on time, judging by this bunch of crap I'm reading."  
  
I took a deep breath and took off my reading glasses. "Ok, Declan... In order to grade this, I need to ask you something, and this time, I want nothing but the truth." He nodded slowly. "Why wasn't your work finished when it should have been?"  
  
Declan shifted uncomfortably on his seat. His gorgeous eyes darted around, obviously looking for an escape; that's when the need of being closer took over me again. I stood up and walked around the desk until I was kneeling right in from of him, as if trying to make him believe I wasn't going to hurt him.  
  
"Don't even consider lying to me."  
  
There was a hint of fear in those eyes; they were almost begging to me not to keep on with the subject. I took his hand between my own. Just like the first time I had touched him, he flinched, but wouldn't pull away from me.  
  
" _Mrs. Dalloway_ was my mother's favourite book. She used to read it to me when I was little, even if I couldn't understand a word of it. She used to say that children's books never really portrayed the real world," then he paused. His mouth opened just the slightest bit to keep talking but a knot had formed in his throat. He swallowed hard. "She passed away a year ago, and I just couldn't bring myself to go through those pages again. You'll see, sir, sometimes it's quite difficult for me to study at home, and I started writing the book report in my breaks, but I just..." The grip he had on my hand tightened, and I could tell I had touched something I probably shouldn't have.  
  
"It's okay, it's okay, baby."  
  
He looked up; his breath was uneven and he was beginning to sob. Looking deep into my eyes, he murmured, "You're being too nice to me, sir," And I couldn't make out if it was a warning or a green light. I didn't have to figure it out; all of a sudden his arms were around my neck, his slender body pressed tightly against mine, and I remained still.  
  
Before I knew it, Declan was running for the door and then he was gone.  
  
I was breathless.


	4. I Want You... I Need You...

I did not want to think about it. Furthermore, I could not allow myself to think about it, and yet, I couldn't keep my mind from playing that particular event from early that morning.  
  
But then again, how could I not? Everything was still there; his voice was still there; the minty scent of his breath was still there; the tremor in his hands. Then there was those embracing arms around my neck that compelled me to stay still as a statue, not because I didn't want to return the loving gesture, but because I _knew_ that if I dared so much as to move a muscle, everything would go straight downhill; not to mention that impending need I had of running after him to keep him by my side and protect him from whatever was hurting him, but how can danger protect innocence?  
  
I needed to take over the entire situation again, take control over myself, and I needed to do it as quickly as possible because things weren't going as smoothly as I had originally planned, which is why I ultimately decided to set the kids free for the next class, since the mid-term exam was scheduled to take place on Friday. I could not face Declan just yet.  
  
Everything, from the delicate way he spoke to me to the methodical, careful movements he made around me told me to watch it, because surprisingly enough, he wasn't trying to elude me or push me away. In fact, he was doing exactly the opposite; that's what scared me the most.  
  
You see, it is simple to hurt, manipulate and deceive people when they deserve to be hurt, manipulated and deceived; even more when they feel they can take on the world - it's easy, tempting even, to find out how strong they really are, how much they can take. The problem was, Declan Donnelly fit in none of these categories. He was the kind of person that would give you everything you wanted, whenever you wanted it, without fighting back; only, it wasn't because of lack of will, but because he was the most fragile creature that I had ever come across, which in time, was what had first captivated me. A week before that day, the boy represented nothing but a quick, easy fuck, and yet I now found myself sitting at my desk thinking about his voice, the minty scent of his breath, the tremor in his hands, but especially, those slim arms tightly holding around my neck.  
  
I somehow managed to keep myself occupied until Thursday, but the worse came at night, when I was restlessly lying on my bed, sweating and panting, tossing and turning; my swollen cock begging for release as my wandering mind fantasised about all the possible scenarios that could have taken place if I'd have just hugged him back; if only I'd had the chance to pull him closer toward me. We would have pulled away a bit, and I would have teased him until his knees buckled. I would have him trapped and completely helpless until he would finally give in and move his lips towards mine, then, without hesitation, my hands would travel down to caress each and every single part of his slender body; he would shiver with anticipation; he would tell me that he wanted me, that he needed me and then...  
  
Then there would have been no way back...  
  
But I did not want to think about that. Furthermore, I could not allow myself to think about it.  
  
Before I knew it, my hand was on my aching dick, and I was pumping furiously, softly biting my lip to keep me from mumbling Declan's name to the dark emptiness of my bedroom.   
  
Eventually, as the images of my sexy little boy attacked my mind like an angry hurricane, I had to speed up the rhythm of my hand, and the harder I pumped, the more agitated my breathing became, the louder my moans, the needier my cries, the stronger my grip...  
  
"I want you... I need you..."  
  
And that's the story of one of best orgasms of my life and for God's sake, I couldn't wait to find out what the real thing felt like if only thinking about him had me going like that. I'm not going to lie, I still get instantly hard every time I tell that story. In case you don't believe me, you are more than welcome to corroborate it yourself.  
  
***  
  
Morning came too quickly for my liking and when I left the bed, I felt as annoyingly tired as I did the night before.  
  
It was still early when the mailman came knocking on my door with a small brown package. After signing the form, I closed the door and opened the box, taking only a quick look at the small, plastic-covered book that was inside before placing it carefully inside my briefcase. I went on my way to school.  
  
Fortunately, the students of my morning class were already sitting in silence in their respective places when I came into the classroom. Declan gave me a shy look that vanished completely once I turned toward him. Had my boy felt something too? I sure as hell wanted to find out.  
  
"Take one and pass the rest to the person behind you,” I said as I placed a small pile of sheets on the first row. “You are not allowed to make a single noise, no matter what the situation is and keep your eyes on your exam, if you don't mind. If you don't follow these simple rules...let's just say you'll wish you had. Once you have finished, leave your paper on your desk, get out and I'll see you next Friday, since I'm not going to be here for Tuesday's class.”   
  
I wanted till every last student had a sheet layed upside down in front of them. You have 50 minutes counting from now...go!"  
  
I let out a long sigh before turning away to take my seat behind the desk. Some of the papers still need to be graded, but once again, my imagination was running away, keeping me from concentrating on anything other than the small boy in the far corner of the classroom. Truth is, I couldn't keep my eyes off of Declan. Not once did he look up and his pen never left his hand; it was obvious that my thoroughly elaborated exam did not represent a challenge for him.  
  
I smiled to myself.  
  
Needless to say, he finished before everyone else did, and was quick to place the paper in the centre of his desk without even looking at me before quietly heading for the door.  
  
"I need to talk to you, Mr. Donnelly."  
  
He stopped dead on his heels and everybody turned to look at him. "Sure, sir." Then, he stepped out.  
  
"What exactly are you looking at? Is your name _Mr. Donnelly_?" I told the few people who remained staring at me, Steven among them.  
  
Exactly fifty minutes later, the classroom was empty and Declan was standing right in front of me. He didn't even give me time to say a word, for he immediately blurted out, "I'm sorry for my...inappropriate behaviour the other day, sir. I'm really sorry. I don't know what is going on with me lately, but I promise it won't ever happen again..."  
"Declan? Shut up for a moment. The only reason I asked you to stay is because I have something I think you might like," I said, digging into my briefcase to find the book I had ordered for him a few days ago, taking advantage of the golden opportunity that had presented to give it to him without arousing any kind of suspicion.  
  
" _Nine Stories_ , by J.D. Salinger. You haven't read it, have you?"  
  
His shocked eyes looked at the book, then at me repeatedly as the ghost of a smile dangled from his lips.  
  
"You remembered..."  
"Of course I did."  
  
Declan's trembling fingers took the book from my hands and examined it carefully, almost as if he was trying to prove it wasn't real.  
  
"God!" He exclaimed, "I've been searching for this for a long time. You didn't have to, sir."  
"Take it as an apology. I had no right to get into your personal issues, but I do want you to know that even if I'm only your teacher, I still care about you and I'm here if you need anything."  
"I don't know what to say, sir."  
"Say thank you."  
"Thank you! Would it be totally inappropriate if I hugged you right now?"  
  
A knot formed in my stomach.  
  
"Yes it would... Unless you want another Salinger book."  
  
He giggled childishly and the delicate sound invaded my eardrums, making me feel happy for some reason.  
  
"Now get out. I have work to do."  
  
Declan nodded courteously.  
  
Before he turned away, I quickly placed my hand on his cheek, compelling him to look at me.  
  
"Take care of yourself." His bluey-green eyes sparkled. "And read that damn book!"  
"I'll start right now, sir." He said, clutching his gift even tighter to his chest.


	5. I Want To Go To Yours

"Well, this was certainly disappointing," I said flatly as I was handing back my students their graded book reports.  
  
"If I recall correctly, and believe me I do, I gave you permission to ask whatever stupid question you had in mind; those were my exact words, but you wouldn't do it. Apparently, you decided to answer them all by yourselves and wrote that on your papers instead. My god, I'm actually scared of grading your exams!"  
  
Declan's book report was the only one I placed facing downward on his desk due to the simple reason that it was the only one graded with an A; also, the word "Brilliant" was brightly scribbled on it with gigantic, red letters. And it really was. But my ever-present nightmare that went by the name of Steven Mulhern decided in the spot that he should be aware of Declan's grade too, so he snatched the damn thing off the table before I could do anything to stop it.  
  
"What do we have here, Donnelly? Hey! Look at this pretty note! You got an A! Guess you're a real genius, now, aren’t you?"  
"Can you please give that back?" Declan asked calmly. The rest of the students observed the interaction with amusement, knowing something _interesting_ was about to happen.  
"Hell, no! I want to know what you did in order to be up to Mr. McPartlin's standards. What exactly is that makes this book report so _brilliant_ ," Steven retorted and all Declan did was sit back on his desk with his arms crossed. "Do whatever you want," he said, and his tone wasn't even slightly disturbed.  
  
I could have put an end to Steven's bullying right there, not just for Declan's sake but also because even if his comments were slight enough to be ignored, he was still implying that there was something going on between the smaller boy and I in front of the entire class, but I have to admit I was both impressed and proud of Declan's reaction; I sort of wanted to see if Steven would really manage to get to him.  
  
"You want this back, don't you? Well, come here and get it."  
"Keep it of you want; you might learn something for a change."  
  
It would have sounded more than unprofessional if I had laughed, but that does not mean I didn't want to; I couldn't figure out whether it had been in a conscious way, but Declan had managed to hit Steven with the one thing he couldn't do anything about: his lack of brains. The entire classroom knew it too; some of them just scratched their heads uncomfortably and looked the other way; some of Steven's friends bit their tongue not to giggle, but most of them were just plain shocked. No one ever talked back to him like that, unless they wanted to deal with the pain and discomfort of a black eye or a broken tooth.  
  
Steven himself looked a bit stunned too, but being on the very top of the high school popularity pyramid, he wasn't anywhere near to let it show. He cleared his throat louder than necessary and said, "Exactly why would I want to learn something from a fucking-"  
"Cut it out now, Mr. Mulhern." I finally interjected.  
  
He turned to lock his furious eyes on mine. "Why don't you tell that to Declan instead? He sure as hell knows how to _cut it_ , if you know what I mean," he spat while tracing invisible lines across his wrist, mimicking a razor with his finger. Everyone laughed. Everyone laughed because it was better if Steven believed they were on his side.  
  
"Out of my class," I demanded.  
  
After he left, I swear I saw a tiny smile dangling from Declan's lips.  
  
***  
  
"Hi, Mr. McPartlin!" He greeted me happily yet a little out of breath, as he had been running through the car park to catch up with me.  
  
I quickly noticed Declan was clutching _Nine Stories_ tightly against his chest exactly like he was doing when he had left the classroom last Friday, exactly a week ago.  
  
It was a cold evening and after being stuck for seemingly endless hours in a meeting with some co-workers and the head teacher, discussing the implications of introducing new topics to the Literature curriculum, I was so fed up that the only thing I could possibly think of was getting home so I could get my ass in a bubble bath or something of the kind, but surprisingly enough, once that little sweet voice filled my ears, everything else became lost and forgotten in the blink of an eye.  
  
I smiled at him before shuffling his hair playfully. "What are you doing here so late, Declan?"  
"Oh, it's not that late, sir."  
"Still...shouldn't you be home already?"  
"Absolutely not. Here at school is the only place where I can actually concentrate on my reading," he explained while tracing the edges of the book with his finger. I nodded knowingly.  
  
Judging by what I have read on his private file, specifically the list of extracurricular activities he had taken part of, Declan spent most of his time trying to keep his mind occupied and away from reality, focusing on whatever activity that demanded all of his attention and still, his notes would remain intact.  
  
What I found to be quite odd about this case can be easily summarised: any teenager who had been diagnosed with chronic depression would present low academic development in a general way because his equally low self-steam would affect without a doubt the expectations he has of himself; not to mention the disturbed image he has of his surroundings and the inability to distinguish between what's real and what's not. But Declan was exactly the opposite, not only were his grades above average, but he was basically every teacher's wet dream (well, he was mine at least): responsible, well-behaved, always punctual and on top of it all, brilliant as nobody I had ever seen before.  
  
School was the perfect getaway for him, and Declan was quite good at taking advantage of it; I was aware of that. Now, what he was running away from, that's what I wanted to know.  
  
We kept on walking, side by side, trying not to slip with the melting snow that had fallen the night before and was now starting to form gracious puddles all over the concrete floor due to the slight sun rays that managed to break through the cloudy sky.  
  
What happened next was the very last thing I could have imagined and it made my heart skip a beat. His cold fingers graced my hand as we walked before saying, “Actually, I was waiting for you."  
  
I stopped at once, thinking that maybe, I hadn't heard correctly, but it only took a quick look to Declan's innocent eyes to know I wasn't mistaken. He took my hand in his and observed it carefully, and his touch was so soft and gentle, I didn't have the courage to pull away.  
  
"May I ask why?"  
"There's something I wanted to give you, only, I couldn't do it this morning..." He fumbled with the pages until he came across a little rectangular-shaped book mark that he placed in my hands.  
  
I honestly didn't know what to do.  
  
"I made it myself," He said proudly. "You know, as a way to say thank you for the book. Look, I wrote something on it! Go ahead, read it!"  
  
I shook my head and let out a small laugh. Declan Donnelly had to be the sweetest person that I had ever come across, and yet I was standing there, right in front of him as if I wasn't the vilest creature on earth. A pang of guilt started to spread very slowly through my entire being.  
  
" _A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery… After all, life is a great teacher._ " I read out loud. "James Joyce, huh?"  
"Exactly. Some classes ago, you said that if we were to read some of the work written by the authors of Modernism, we would not be able to understand a word. I tried James Joyce."  
"And?"  
"Well, that was the only phrase I could understand, but I thought it was beautiful."  
"Well, you're sure full of surprises, Declan."  
"Aye, well. Normal people usually call that being weird."  
"Normal people are usually crap."  
  
That made him laugh. A genuine laugh. It also earned me a delicate smile. "So what does that make me, sir?"  
"Special." I blurted out before even having the proper time to consider what was about to come out of my mouth.  
  
His big sparkling eyes looked up at me, but there was no expression I could properly identify on them.  
  
"I think it's time to go home now," he said before taking my hand again.  
"Sure. Do you need a ride? Where do you live?"  
"I don't want to go to _my_ house, Mr. McPartlin... I want to go to yours."


	6. You're Having An Effect On Me

Even though I had a lot of questions about Declan, one thing was for certain, he wasn't stupid, and I had already figured he was going to realise my true intentions sooner or later; every one of my babies did, but by the time this would happen, it was already impossible for them to go back, and there wasn't anywhere to go but forward; Declan was somehow aware (if not pretty damn sure) of my feelings for him and I hadn't even begun to put my plan into action.  
  
I know that I should have backed away at that point. In the exact moment I realised he was gaining more control over me than the one I had so carefully gained over him, I should have built a wall to protect me from whatever consequences this could bring. If I had been any smarter, that's exactly what I would have done: get away from it immediately. If I had been half as clever as I thought I was, I wouldn't have let him hypnotise me like he was doing. Now he was playing a game and I didn't quite know how it worked, but was losing anyway. He knew it, but now I knew too.  
  
It never really crossed my mind how quickly he could get under my skin, how easy it was for him to turn everything around. After all this time, I still don't know what went wrong. I had everything planned and under control. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, it was all different. I wouldn't realise it until long time after, but I had underestimated him greatly.  
  
However, what went on in the car park after Declan made the bluntest declaration since I'd met him still remains to be one of my sweetest memories.  
  
_-I don't want to go my house, Mr. McPartlin... I want to go to yours._  
_-You can't come home with me, Declan._  
_-Why not? I promise not to cover your front porch with toilet paper on Halloween if you take me home with you._  
  
I came up with more excuses than I actually believed myself capable of. Worthless. He would hear nothing about his father worried sick about him, _he wasn't home anyway and he refused to spend Friday night alone._ He didn't want to hang out with people his own age; _they were boring, pathetic and incredibly stupid._ He didn't think we were doing anything wrong, _but he would keep the secret if I wanted him too._ No matter what I said, he would hear nothing of it.  
This dynamic kept going for a few more minutes, and Declan's response never failed to amuse me more than the former. Truth is, I was dying to be alone with him, to enjoy his company in private, see how far he wanted to take this little game of his, but at the same time, I was a bit afraid of where would his game take _me_. Eventually I gave up.  
  
_***_  
  
Declan was quite chatty during the ride home, and once we got there as well. The entire time he kept commenting on how nice everything looked around here and about every little detail, like the pale pink of the flowers, the dogs running around in the grass, the smiling gnomes in the yard next door, which was what made it all look so beautiful according to Declan.  
  
I couldn't help thinking how simple and comforting it was to talk to him; after having to deal day after day with so many people who were just as dead inside as they looked on the outside, this boy turned out to be quite a life saver. He laughed about everything, talked about anything and knew just how to keep going a good conversation.  
  
"It's a nice neighbourhood...Do you live here all by yourself?...How come you're not married?...Do you have a girlfriend?" He started at one point.  
"You ask too many questions, baby. One more and I'll take you home."  
"Fine. But everyone wonders the same things about you at school, you know?"  
"No, I didn't know."  
"Well, they do, especially girls. Did you know that Lisa Armstrong has a huge crush on you? She has your name written all over her notebook; she drew little hearts and everything."  
"How do you know this?"  
"I have eyes."  
"Yeah, very pretty eyes..." I said simply. I think either one of us felt the need to be shy or even too careful anymore.  
"Yours are really nice too, sir."  
"You know, you make me feel like a hundred years old when you call me _sir_."  
"Sorry, my father is a bit pesky about discipline. He likes it when I call him that."  
"Well, I don't."  
"I don't exactly love it when you call me by my last name either. Just call me Dec."  
  
I smirked; the boy seemed to actually have quite a mouth on him once you got to know him. "Fair enough, _Dec_." I said, loving the way his name rolled off my tongue.  
"I have one more question and before you say anything, this one's important."  
"What?"  
"Do you really think I'm brilliant?"  
"You don't need me to know the answer to that."  
  
Once inside my house, Dec stood still in front of me, arms crossed over his chest and a charming smile on his face while I took off my jacket and tie.  
  
"Strange," he muttered.  
"What's strange?"  
Dec blushed. "I don't think I've ever seen you without your tie on."  
  
_Should I be flattered?_  
  
"You want to take the tour?" I asked him.  
"Maybe later. I bet you have a gigantic library," he said. I grinned before taking him by the hand and leading him through a narrow hallway to my personal studio where my literary collection was.  
  
"Wow! Exactly how I imagined it. Have you read all of these books?"  
"Most of them," I distractedly replied as I took a cigarette from the package in my desk and lit it. I sat in the leather couch placed on the far corner and watched in delicious astonishment as Declan moved graciously in front of me, as if he knew the place better than myself, picking a random book to examine its pages, tracing the edges of the bookshelves, picking up an old photograph, analysing the pile of movies on the top shelf, then putting back everything in the exact place and position he had found it; everything but one specific object.  
  
I was mesmerised and peacefully delighted. He walked up towards me and took the cigarette from my mouth; he took a long drag only to replace it on my lips before long.  
  
"Can we watch this?" He asked holding out my copy of _Pride and Prejudice_.  
  
***  
  
Dec refused to eat anything, and I was too nervous to do so anyway; therefore, we sat in the living room in complete silence with no lights on except for the bluish glow of the TV. I would steal a glance at my lovely boy every once in a while; his full attention was focused on the story line of the movie. I wondered if he ever looked at me like that when we were in class.  
  
In the movie, Elizabeth Bennet had just turned down Mr. Darcy's marriage proposal, and she was now wondering whether it had been the right decision to make, after reading the letter he gave her explaining all those weird circumstances that had been the reason for the rejection. Then the always expected epiphany in romantic novels like this, took place at full force.  
  
In a turn-around of events, Elizabeth Bennet, the perfect and well-educated goddess of Longbourn, turned out to be a petty, prejudiced woman who was several feet above some bitter and conceited man such as Mr. Darcy, who in reality was only a passionate man who had fallen desperately in love with her, and it wasn't until he was long and forever gone, that she realised how much she loved him too.  
  
"Do you know what my mum said about this specific part of the movie?"  
"What?"  
"She said that the most beautiful part of a relationship is when said relationship hasn't even started yet. She meant the process that two people go through in order to fall in love with each other."  
  
_It's all about the chase_...I thought.  
  
"Once the relationship is officially defined, love starts to fade, which is why you need to wake up every day and start falling in love with your significant other all over again."  
"Your mum had beautiful feelings."  
"Have you ever been in love, Mr. McPartlin?"  
  
Dec had caught me completely out of guard and I became a hopeless loss for words. I knew more than well that a whole lot depended on the way you answered questions like these, but at the moment I found myself unable to come up with anything that could resemble an answer.  
  
"Hmmm...I guess..."  
"How does it feel?" He insisted.  
"I don't think I can explain that, it's very complicated. You feel...I don't know...complete."  
"How can I know if I'm in love?"  
"Well...you just...know."  
  
Dec pursed his lips, not in disbelief, but I could tell he was pondering it in his mind, waiting for the meaning to sink into his brain. "I guess you're right." He shrugged, then lifted my arm and laid his head on my chest. "Hope you don't mind, I'm a bit cold."  
  
I took a deep breath. Having him so close to me just made my blood boil. I still managed to pull down the cloth I kept over the couch so I could cover the small, quivering body curled upon me with it. Declan gave a sigh of contentment and nuzzled into my neck. Minutes later he was fast asleep.  
  
***  
  
I stood beside the counter smoking my second cigarette of the night. The clock read about 9:15 and Dec was still snoring softly in the couch, clutching the blanket against his chest.  
  
My fingers were still trembling, my heart could barely return to its normal pace; the cigarette was meant to calm me down, but I knew it was going to take me some time.  
  
Everything had been so cute an innocent for a while; his arms were around my neck and my face was buried in his hair. Oh, the welcoming heat coming from his touch, that sweet scent...soon enough my hands were roaming around the sides of his body and all over his back, Dec's breathing rhythm quickly increased as he held on to me tighter, pulling our bodies impossibly closer.  
  
But in that moment, that little pang of guilt I had felt earlier that day turned into a full-blown kick in my guts; his skin started to burn on mine, his warm breath began to suffocate me. I had to stop; I just had to get away immediately.  
  
Reluctantly, I settled him down on the couch being careful enough not to disturb him and went directly to the sink to splash cold water on my flushed face.  
  
I was pouring scotch into a glass when he started to stir. Such a sight for sore eyes. I found it quite fascinating, the way he stretched and yawned; only then he rubbed the sleep from his eyes before spotting me leaning against the counter and gave me a lazy smile.  
  
"Sorry, I guess I'm not a very fun guest."  
"Either that, or I'm the worst host ever."  
"No, no that's not it. I wouldn't be that comfortable here if it were."  
  
He stood up and stretched once more. "Can I have some?"  
"I really shouldn't give you any alcohol," I began to say, but Dec was already taking the glass from my hands. He took a small sip.  
  
"Strong with no ice. This is exactly how my father likes it. He started drinking since mum...you know.”  
"You miss her a lot, don't you?"  
The small boy nodded. "Dad doesn't even notice me anymore. He hardly even notices anything. Sometimes I look at him, and his stare is just blank. Worse than being a robot. He doesn't want to go to therapy, yet he threw me in the first shrink's office he could find."  
"Well, you need to understand that even if this is really hard for him, he still wants the best for you, but he's not sure exactly what to do. Either way, I know he's trying his best. Maybe you can help him too, let him know you're there for him."  
"Maybe, I don't know. It's just that sometimes I don't feel like trying anymore."  
"That's perfectly normal; you're going through a very rough time, but it'll pass and it will get better. There's always going to be someone there for you."  
"You?"  
"If you want me to be."  
  
Declan smiled and caressed my cheek. "You know something? You're very different outside the classroom. In the classroom everyone's afraid of you, but I think you're actually very..."  
"What?"  
"Sweet."  
"That drink is having an effect on you."  
"You're having an effect on me." Dec whispered standing on his tip toes to take my face between his hands.  
  
It happened too quickly and I barely had time to react. Part of me wanted this to happen more than anything else in the world, but part of me was having second thoughts about it too. One of my hands curled around his waist to draw him closer, but the other went directly to his lips to stop him from kissing me.  
  
Dec wasn't expecting this; he looked confused, insulted and frustrated, all at the same time, but on top if all, there was sorrow in his eyes. Something inside of me stirred and I felt nauseous. I needed to hug him; he didn't pull away.  
  
"Maybe I should take you home now, baby."  
"Maybe you should."  
  
Oh, yes... The characteristic epiphany we read in novels can take place in real life too. Once I was home alone, I started to have second thoughts about making the right decision. Had I missed my chance? If so, was there ever going to be another one? Second chances worked perfectly well for Elizabeth Bennet, but I couldn't help wondering if this is how she had felt after rejecting Mr. Darcy's proposal, like total and complete shit.


	7. I Can See You Were Inspired

_-You're having an effect on me..._  
_-Come here..._  
_Dec's lips were soft and gentle against mine, but I couldn't hold back anymore. I'm proud to say that I kissed him like no one had before. I went as far as I could into his mouth, swallowing his moans, keeping him from breathing. His arms curled lovingly around my neck and I took the opportunity to take him into my arms and carry him to my bedroom._  
  
_There was no tenderness, no gentle moves anywhere to be seen, only lust and desire; certain thirst for each other we couldn't seem to avoid anymore. I threw him onto the bed and crawled up beside him. Dec too, decided I was taking too long; he immediately sat up and unbuttoned my shirt as I struggled to undo my pants._  
  
_I felt trembling fingers caressing my chest, gripping my hips, and all of a sudden that inviting mouth was attached to mine. I pulled him closer as the pleasure intensified. Soon enough, I was moaning and screaming his name until my lungs were about to explode. Those fingers slid along the waistband of my underwear and I was ready to wake the dead._  
  
_"Touch me...please touch me..." I begged him; he looked up at me and licked his lips seductively. "Maybe you should take me home now," he said._  
  
  
I suddenly opened my eyes only to close them again in order to protect them from the intense sunlight coming through the windows. I was still panting, trying to catch my breath while sweat poured down from my forehead. It was then that I felt an obvious discomfort between my legs and I let out a groan of frustration. It didn't exactly take a fucking genius to figure out what had happened, yet again.  
  
I'd had the same fucking dream for three nights in a row, and it was starting to have a very serious _effect_ on me. Each time got worse; the entire situation got worse with every passing moment because every passing moment would raise more questions, more doubts and more insecurity.  
  
For the sake of my own sanity, I wanted to believe that this was happening because after _what had happened_ , the itch I had of kissing him and having him in my arms could only be described as unbearable. Actually, it wasn't exactly the wet dreams what bothered me; I could deal with the soaked sheets and the raging erections at sunrise, but my growing feelings for him...those are something I found myself pretty much unable to avoid.  
The whole weekend I couldn't think of absolutely anything but him, and each of the minutes that we had spent together, either holding hands, cuddling on the couch or just talking, remained neat and fresh in my heart as if they had been printed there with indelible ink.  
  
I just couldn't understand it. I was usually very good at manipulating people; I knew exactly how to get what I needed; if I wanted sex, I focused on getting nothing more and nothing less, and in all these years, I had never committed the stupid mistake of falling in love with anybody. Oh no, love could only complicate things, and I wasn't about to risk losing my mind, my job and God knows what else because of two or three insignificant fucks.  
  
However, I soon realised that with Declan, it wasn't just some meaningless fling I was looking for; otherwise it would have happened already. The only thing I could be sure about was that the kid trusted me, and that alone was a thousand times more valuable than anything else I could have wanted from him when I first met him; believe it or not.  
  
Before I knew it, it was Monday all over again; another week was starting and I wondered for how long I would be able to tolerate the entire situation without breaking down.  
  
At home, I found it hard to enter certain rooms he'd been in, but at school, those overwhelming feelings were even worse because I knew he was somewhere around me, somewhere very close and so fucking far away at the same time.  
  
Then again, it was only Monday, a few hours into the day and my conscience was already filled with all these self-deprecating thoughts that made me burn from the inside out. I decided I needed to get some fresh air and ironically, I went outside to smoke a cigarette. That's when I caught a glimpse of him going into the library.  
  
In less than a second I stood up and went after him. Only when I was walking mere inches away from him, I reached over to touch his hand. He turned around, startled, and his eyes widened with some kind of emotion I just couldn't identify.  
  
"Hi, baby," I whispered. He smiled a bit and beckoned me to follow him. He grabbed a random book and sat at the nearest table. I took my place beside him.  
  
"Hey, Mr. McPartlin! What are you doing here?"  
"I just wanted to talk to you for a bit, that's all."  
"Why?"  
"Let's just say I've missed you."  
"You have?"  
I nodded.  
  
"I thought that after what happened last Friday..." Dec trailed off as his eyes fixated on the ground.  
"What happened last Friday was somewhat confusing for me too, but that doesn't mean it was wrong."  
"I know; it’s just that I'm really comfortable around you and I guess I got a bit...carried away."  
"Maybe we both did."  
"That's exactly what scares me."  
"What do you mean?"  
  
I knew exactly what he meant, but I wanted to hear it from his lips.  
  
"I don't want you to get in trouble just because of me, and I'm sorry for everything, I really am."  
  
I was speechless.  
  
"See you tomorrow, Mr. McPartlin."  
  
He left without another word.  
  
***  
  
Tuesday morning. I was standing in front of the door; when I reached for the doorknob to open it I could feel my heart beginning to beat faster. I finally stepped into the classroom and my eyes landed instantly on Dec other than anybody else, but his stare was lost somewhere out the window, and maybe he didn't even notice I was there until my briefcase made a loud thump on the desk.  
  
"Good morning everyone."  
  
Taking out my lesson plan as I always did, I skimmed it briefly just to remember what I had planned for the class. The topic was "The Lost Generation." It was exactly what was written on the syllabus provided by the head teacher. The activities focused mostly on the assigned reading of ' _Of Mice and Men'_ by John Steinbeck: group discussions, identification of figures of speech, deep analysis of the novel and so on.  
  
I had been a teacher long enough to know how to organise a lesson, and it usually didn't take me more than _two hours_. For this specific lesson I had spent a good half of the weekend working on that document, mainly because I could hardly concentrate on anything for more than _two minutes_ , and when I finally finished, I thought I had done my job, but right at that moment, standing in front of the group, knowing Declan was looking at me, I just wasn't so sure anymore.  
  
No, if I wanted an answer, that was not the way to get it at all, so I ripped the paper in two and then turned to my students.  
  
"Ok, listen; we won't be working with _Of Mice and Men_ today, so you might as well put it back in your bags because the only things I want to see in your desks are two sheets of paper and a pen. You're going to write an essay on whatever topic you like; I don't care whether it is "Fluffy, my Cat" or "The Rise and Fall of Modern Civilization"; just choose a topic you're passionate about and pour out your thoughts in no less than 600 words. You can leave when you finish."  
  
Nobody questioned my actions, nor did they object to what they had been told; in fact, I think they were rather happy to hear they would be free of class after completing a minimal task. Dec remained still for a while, and then he laid his head on the desk and started writing too. The classroom soon filled with silence; a deafening silence that could drive anyone crazy, anyone but me; silence was exactly what I needed.  
  
Fortunately, everyone was so concentrated on writing their essays that none of them noticed me walking back and forth through the rows of chairs. Dec, however, continued to watch my every move with his head still resting on his desk. I gave his cheek a playful pinch which made him blush and smile. Still, no one saw a thing.  
  
Six hundred words didn't exactly qualify as a brain challenge, and it wasn't long before my students got up one by one, placed their papers on my desk and left. There were a wide variety of topics, some of them wrote about their favourite bands, others wrote about video games, movies and so on.  
  
The last paper I received was Dec's. He sat there playing with the zipper on his hoodie, waiting patiently until there wasn't a single soul in the classroom to stand up and place it carefully in my hands. I was quite surprised to see that the title, written at the very top of the page, underlined and highlighted with a red pen was no other than "LOVE".  
  
"Sorry, I think I went a little bit over the word limit."  
"Yes, I can see you were inspired."  
"Well, you can't really blame me, can you?" Once again, his eyes seemed to be lost in space, looking at anything but me.  
"I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
He swallowed hard and bit his lip, "Mr. McPartlin I think we need to-."  
  
"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" Steven fucking Mulhern entered the classroom without so much as a slight knock on the door.  
"No, I was just leaving." Declan said. He then turned to me. "Thanks for everything, Mr. McPartlin."  
  
I could only watch helplessly as he turned around and walked toward the door without looking back. I had a very decent idea of what Dec was going to tell me; he wanted to ask why I had let all of this happen and then refuse to kiss him; he needed me to tell him how I felt about him in order for him to tell me that he was having feelings for me too. He was too fragile to make yet another move without knowing whether I would reject him again or not. Truth is, Declan needed answers too, only I didn't have any. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and I secretly thanked God for the undesired interruption that saved me from having to deal with a conversation I wasn't ready for.  
  
It was then that the undesired interruption brought me back to reality.  
  
"That your new boy toy?"  
"What do you want, Steven?"  
"I want to know why the fuck are you chasing that freak around when you have me."  
"I haven't got the slightest clue about what you're talking about."  
"What? Are you really going to deny that you're trying to get into Donnelly's pants? If so, then you're more pathetic than I had originally thought."  
"There's no need to worry about me fucking him. Unlike you, Declan Donnelly is not a two-dollar whore who would do anything to please his teacher."  
"Of course not. He's a pathetic loser who can't do anything right other than slash his wrists every time he can't deal with his problems."  
"Careful there, sweetheart. That pathetic loser managed to put you in quite a situation last Friday, now didn't he?"  
"I don't give two shits about him. There's nothing he can do than I can't do better. Don't you remember the fun we used to have?"  
"Have some dignity. I'm not interested in you anymore."  
"Why the fuck not?"  
"Because I hate all of you faggots," I repeated in the exact tone he had used long time ago, but I could tell from his expression he hadn't forgotten about it. Then I walked away only after making sure there was not another ingenious comeback or witty comment coming from his mouth.  
  
***  
  
Professor Cowell was the closest thing I had to a friend since he never really asked any fake questions about how my day had gone, or insisted on inviting me over to his house for a lovely dinner with his equally lovely family. He contented himself with the weekly lunch together and the occasional beer at the local bar. It wasn't unusual for some of our colleges to join us; Principal Johnson among them.  
  
That specific Tuesday, the original plan had included going for a cup of coffee and maybe a cigarette or two, but given the past course of events, I decided I needed something way stronger than coffee. It was too early, but Simon didn't ask any questions nor did he make any attempts to make me change my mind.  
  
"Isn't the head coming with us?" I asked.  
"Oh, I'm afraid not. He's having a heated meeting with Steven Mulhern's parents right now."  
"A meeting? Concerning what?"  
"The little troublemaker left a very hurtful message written with spray paint on Declan Donnelly's locker. The boss had to call his parents right away."  
  
My heart skipped a beat.  
  
I had always thought Steven was harmless. The kid had nothing more than his big mouth to defend himself and sometimes, even that wasn't enough. They hadn't been of any use with Dec and certainly, they hadn't been of any use with me, and Steven knew that pretty well; it drove him completely crazy.  
  
"Simon, are you entirely sure that it was Declan Donnelly's locker?"  
"Where have you been all day? By now, each and every single person in school knows."  
"Where's Declan?"  
"I don't know."  
  
Oh yes; sometimes you just take things for granted and never stop to consider anything twice. Steven might have been stupid, but he still knew how to inflict damage alright.  
  
I promised to myself I was going to take care of it later, but I needed to find Declan first.


	8. You're A Thousand Times More Addictive

Standing in the middle of the empty hallway, I let out a deep sigh. The word "hurtful" didn't even begin to describe what could be read on Declan's locker. It wasn't only the words that could make you shiver; just looking at the scene for a moment would make you realise how every element combined with the next one to make the it even more hideous.  
  
I tried to think things through for a while and yet, I couldn't figure out exactly how Steven and his entourage of idiots had done it, but my first guess was that they'd sneaked out of class and stole the spray paint from the art classroom to arrange what they so cynically called a 'prank'. What made it even more disturbing were the several dozens of scattered razor blades lying on the floor which must have fallen from inside the locker when Dec opened it. They didn't make any sense until you read what was written on the cold, metallic surface in bright red.  
  
"This time get it right, loser."  
  
I suddenly started to feel nauseous.  
  
***  
  
Located right behind the tall, concrete buildings of the school was a wide and solitary football field in which no one ever really practised sport. A fire drill or two every year was all the action the field would see. Normally, couples would take advantage of the emptiness of this place to have a little time together, but due to the extremely cold weather at this time of the year, not a single soul could be spotted anywhere around.  
  
That is where I finally found Dec after having searched for hours. I was completely sure that he hadn't gone home, and I knew that he was too proud to come to me; therefore, I found myself walking and checking every damn corner of that fucking school without any kind of success.  
  
It was then that I recalled Professor Cowell's words. If everybody knew what had happened; inside school, where everybody was, would be the last place Dec would want to be. It turned out I was right.  
  
He was sitting on the very corner of the field, behind a tree, with his knees up to his chin and his hands covering his face. He was as used to dealing with Steven's shit as just about everybody in school, but this time around, it had got too personal, too hateful, and I couldn't help but feeling directly responsible for what had happened since everything started the day Steven realised I was paying "special" attention to Dec.  
  
"How did you find me?" He asked turning his back to me as I sat beside him, but I had already noticed the uncontrollable trembling of his body.  
"My crystal ball told me you might be here."  
"Did it also tell you what happened?"  
"It's a only crystal ball, Dec; you cannot expect too much from it."  
"Yeah, well... Apparently you can't expect a lot from people at this school either."  
"Not even from me?"  
  
Declan didn't answer at first. He didn't make a move nor a sound for a little while, and I started to wonder whether I should take his silence as a _no_. Then he turned to face me, and as soon as my eyes met his, I could notice the swelling tears that were threatening to run down his beautiful face at any minute. Dec breathed in and out repeatedly, trying hard to control himself in order to speak. "We both know you're the only one who actually gives a fuck about me" he told me.  
  
No, I couldn't just shrug it off. Dec's shaky voice was capable of warming up my insides and touch the depths of my soul in a way nothing else could. I instinctively got closer and took his face between my hands. "It's way more than that, Declan." I then surrounded him with my arms as he placed his head on my chest and began to sob quietly.  
  
My heart began to ache as I desperately tried to find a way to make him feel better; to make it all go away. I held him for what seemed like an eternity, just stroking his hair or pressing loving kisses to his forehead until the tears cascading down his coloured cheeks started to subside.   
  
The entire time I remained silent. I knew he wasn't the kind of person that responds to the typical "How are you feeling? Is everything okay?" No, it wasn't okay and there is no fucking way he could describe what was going through his mind in that precise moment, so I just held him. The moment he wanted to talk, I would be there to listen without asking questions he wasn't ready to answer.  
  
Eventually, the sobbing stopped, and the crying stopped. Declan fell silent too, but I could still feel his chest moving against mine as he tried to control his breath. All of a sudden, I felt his fingers creeping down my arm to hold my hand. That's when I noticed the tiny red blotches on his sleeve that could only mean one thing. I swallowed hard.  
  
"Baby, what did you do?" I pulled up the fabric of his sweatshirt ever so delicately so as not to hurt him until I came across three swollen cuts located just above his wrist. A choked sob erupted from his throat, but he didn't try to yank his arm away; he didn't even protest.  
  
"Decs, I need to take you to the school nurse."  
"No, please, don't! She is going to call my father, and my father is going to call my doctor, and my doctor is going to give me those horrible pills that make me all numb and sleepy, and I don't want to-"  
"Declan! Stop, baby! We're not going to do anything you don't want to. But you do need a bandage."  
"No, I don't. They'll heal, they always do."  
"Dec-..."  
"Please, Mr. McPartlin, I'm begging you!"  
  
He took my hand and placed it on his face; it was still wet, but as soon as I caressed his cheek, I felt the delicate velvet-like softness beneath my fingers that almost made me melt, and I told him I would take care of everything, that we were going home.  
  
We both knew that I didn't mean _his_ home.  
  
***  
  
Dec stood beside me on the bathroom, watching in silence as I handled the faucets in order to steady the temperature of the water in the bath. Once I made sure it was pleasantly mild, I turned toward my frightened little student and gently stripped him from his shirt.  
  
Declan lifted his arms willingly to allow the garment to pass over his head without so much as a question or even a word. As my eyes landed on his naked skin, my heart skipped a beat. There are no words to describe him; he was damn beautiful, just as I had imagined in my wildest dreams.  
  
I then kneeled down and undid his pants. His reaction to my every move had been mostly passive, but in that moment, his hands entangled in my hair and made me look up at the same time his perfect eyes bored holes deep into my soul.   
  
I sighed before pressing my lips lovingly against the smooth skin of his chest, then his neck. Dec bit his lip and let out a small moan which brought me back to my senses at once; I immediately stood up and took a step backwards.   
  
"Get in there, baby, and try to relax. I'll be back in no time," I said, handing him a clean towel out of the nearest shelf.  
"You promise?"  
"I promise."  
  
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I shut my eyes and touched my lips in an attempt to preserve the previous moment in my mind; I desperately needed to have him in my arms, and I didn't think I would be able to hold back much longer until I forgot how vulnerable he was and how much he required to be treated as gently as possible.  
  
I took in a deep breath to help calm myself down, then I went downstairs and into the laundry room to put Dec's clothes in the washing machine. I was pretty sure that somewhere along my life I had bought a first aid kit, so I decided to go find it to check I had everything I needed.  
  
Moments later, I was back into the bathroom, sitting next to the bath with the boy's arm lying on my lap. He would flinch every now and then as I pressed the damp gauze to his reddened skin to remove the dried blood. After applying the antiseptic and covering the wounds, I gathered all the contents of the first aid kit and closed it quietly.  
  
Dec flashed me a shy smile through parted lips and half-lidded eyes. "Thank you," he said. I smiled back and turned towards the door.  
  
***  
  
After handing him back his clothes, now fresh and clean, I decided to give Declan some space so he could rest; it had been a long, difficult day, after all. When I entered the bedroom again, he was curled on his left side on the bed, holding a book in front of him. He looked quite peaceful.  
  
I layed down next to him, smiling to myself as he wriggled and wriggled until he finally found a comfortable position pressed tightly against my body; my arms appeared to have gained a mind on their own as they wrapped around his's waist.  
  
"What are you reading, baby?" I asked casually.  
"Nothing really. I was just taking a look at this."  
"Oscar Wilde?"  
"Yeah, I've always wanted to read it but I'm just not sure." Dec was holding _The Portrait of Dorian Grey._ "What's it about?"  
"The whole story centres on a man of extraordinary beauty. Wilde describes him as the most perfect creature that ever stepped on Earth. This man, Dorian Grey of course, wishes nothing more than to find a way to preserve said beauty; therefore, he decides to ask Basil Hallward, an extraordinary artist, to paint his portrait. He agrees but soon becomes obsessed with every little detail of Dorian's complexion which ultimately leads him to fall deeply in love with him."  
"Really?"  
"Aye."  
"Do they get to be together?"  
  
I hesitated for a moment. "Hmmm, yes."  
  
"Maybe I should paint your portrait some time, Mr. McPartlin."  
  
"Declan?" He groaned in response. "If I ask you to do something, would you do it for me?"  
"I would do anything for you."  
"Whenever you feel the urge to hurt yourself again, please come to me."  
"It's not going to work. You're a thousand times more addictive than any razor I've had in my hands."  
  
Sometimes I can still hear those words echoing in the depths of my mind. And the events that happened after are the one true memory I cherish and love the most.  
  
I pressed a chaste kiss to his damp hair and I noticed a very familiar coconut scent going up my nostrils; he had used my shampoo. It turned me on incredibly. My grip around his waist tightened unconsciously as Dec sighed deeply and closed the book. My lips travelled down until they reach his ear, where I was free to let my tongue play, sucking, licking and biting on that inviting earlobe that was just begging for attention.  
  
I would like to say I was aware of what was happening, but I would be lying; I couldn't be more lost in him, lost in his every reaction, lost in every slight movement that he made, and every single breath he took only made me want him more.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dec had his eyes closed and his teeth were about to draw blood from his lower lip. I took the book from his hands and threw it away; before the loud thump could be heard, I flipped him around and pressed our lips together. The minute the contact was made, every notion I had of time and space disappeared. I focused only on him, on his arms locked behind my neck, on his soft lips sliding gently against my own, but especially, on his tongue probing all over my mouth, exploring each and every single corner as if there was no tomorrow.  
  
We kissed passionately until our lips felt too swollen and tired to continue. I didn't have the heart to tell Declan the truth. I just couldn't tell him that Dorian Grey was actually an evil monster who let himself be carried away by his selfishness and ridiculous vanity until the point of no return, and the guilt started to sink its ugly fangs into my heart.  
  
Then a light entered my brain. Dorian Grey had ended Basil Hallward's life without having any remorse for it; he didn't love him, he never did, and that's when I realised our story was already different.


	9. There's One Last Thing I Want You To Know

What started out as a passionate, heated kiss slowly started to fade away, losing strength with every tired movement of our facial muscles until it became nothing more than a comfortable embrace; we certainly were not ready for anything else considering how rough things had gotten for the two of us in the last couple of weeks.  
  
The silence was comfortable too; Dec was now curled up against me while lazily playing with my fingers, and every now and then I would lift his chin and seek his lips with mine to press them together in a tender kiss, but he hardly said a word. For my part, I had been waiting so long for this to happen that every moment with him seemed to taste even sweeter than the last one, and therefore, I too, decided that the only thing words would be good for was to ruin the inner peace that had started to grow somewhere in my soul after God knows how long of being trapped underneath these emotions that overwhelmed my entire being. Needless to say, this new feeling was far too satisfying to give it up.  
  
I knew that sooner or later Dec and I would be forced to come out of our much desired fantasy world because there was still a number of questions that remained unanswered, most of them concerning not only the feelings we seemed to have towards each other, but also Declan's home life, his even more worrying self-harm issues and last but not least, the situation with Steven Mulhern.  
  
Yes, at any given moment, we would be back to face every day's reality once again, but we preferred not to talk about it for the moment. For the moment, there was an unspoken understatement of enjoying each and every single second together, and that's exactly what we were going to do.  
  
"It feels really good, you know?" Dec cooed in my ear all of a sudden; his hot breath making me shiver as soon as it made contact with my skin.  
"What does?"  
He paused and bit his lip. "The way you kiss me." He said finally.  
"Well, come here and show me how much you like it."  
  
A tiny giggle came out from his mouth as he wrapped his slender fingers around my shoulders for support before he carefully straddled my waist; the burning heat coming from his body enveloped me like a warm wave of summer air and my hands started shaking. He took my face and licked his lips seductively as he pulled me closer and closer towards him. Our lips touched for what must have been the millionth time that afternoon, but it was just as thrilling as the very first one, and a thousand times better that any kiss I'd had before.  
  
"Oh, Declan..." I cried a bit louder than necessary as his palm sneaked its way down my shirt and slid all over my naked chest.  
"I like it better when you call me _baby_."  
  
Closing the gap between us once again, his tongue caressed my lower lip, forcing my mouth open before gingerly delving in. He moaned softly once he felt my hands that were now grasping his hips to keep him in place; I kissed him harder; it was his turn to gasp in surprise and I laughed silently inside.  
  
Just like before, we ended up surrounding each other with our arms entwined together and Dec's mouth gently massaging the sensitive spots on my neck; the kisses started to fade away one more time as well as my baby's consciousness. The next moment, he fell asleep while still holding me.  
  
***  
  
Around half an hour went away like a sigh. The bedroom soon began to fill with strangely-shaped shadows as the last sun rays of the day crept through the closed shutters; it was getting late and cold. I pulled a blanket over Declan's sleeping form to protect him from the chilly air that had now started to create goose bumps on his flesh; then I wriggled away as steadily as possible to not wake him as I attempted to open the top drawer of the night stand and get myself a cigarette. No sooner had I placed it between my lips, than Dec stirred uncomfortably beside me, so I decided to go sit by the window to avoid any unnecessary disturbances.  
  
It wasn't long until my eyes fixated on the rising and falling action taking place in his chest, on the small, involuntary twitches of his face, and especially on his parted lips closing and opening rhythmically as he breathed; it was so beautiful watching him sleep that I found it quite hard to get my eyes off of him, but then again, here, at home, inside our own personal space, we were safe.  
  
It was then that I started wondering, what would it be like to wake up day after day with Declan lying right next to me, for the rest of my life? Was it even possible? No; deep inside of me I knew how far-fetched it sounded, but I still allowed myself to fantasise with the thought for a while; just for the sake of the moment.  
  
Dec rolled on the bed; he rubbed his eyes with his fist and sat up slowly. He yawned heavily before asking what time it was. "Around six," I answered him before carelessly flicking the cigarette. I looked up only to find tired eyes peering at me.  
  
"What is it about this place that makes me fall asleep even when I'm with you?" And his voice was still dripping tiredness everywhere.  
"It's boring as hell; that's what it is about it."  
"No, it's not boring; it's romantic," Dec corrected me with a sweet smile.  
"As romantic as those cats singing outside. Come sit with me, baby."  
  
He did as he was told, diligently claiming his place on my lap before resting his head on my shoulder, adjusting himself just a little bit so he could get a better view of the mesmerizing orange tones that the sky had acquired as the sun began to hide away on the horizon. Once again, he pulled the cigarette off my lips and took a drag; I asked him if he wanted one, but he gently shook his head. "This one tastes like you," he murmured. It was then that I understood why he had done the same thing the first time he was here.  
  
Dec fell silent for a moment, then his delicate voice took me by surprise one more time, "I want to thank you again for not...you know...telling on me about the cuts and everything."  
"Listen, I want you to know that I will do absolutely anything to protect you, but you do have some explaining to do about that."  
"What do you want to know?" Dec's eyes were glued to mine when he asked that question; then he sighed deeply, looking like he was about ready to sincerely pour out his heart to anyone willing to hear him.  
  
I took a moment to consider my next sentence too because Dec's feelings were what I was concerned about the most, but at the same time I needed to have in mind that for all he knew, I wasn't aware of any aspect of his private life. He didn't know about my constant talks with Professor Cowell and he sure as hell didn't know about my vast investigation in his private file, but one thing was for certain: he was ready to open up to me the way I'm sure he hadn't done so with anyone before.  
  
"For how long have you been doing it?" I asked at last.  
"Since mam died, I think. I remember being in my room doing nothing in particular until a random anxiety attack came. Next thing I knew, I was pressing the razor blade against the skin on my arms, watching as it tore open. It felt good to finally let out all that tension."  
"Does your father know about this?"  
"Not only my father, but the entire school knows. I'm positively sure Steven knows it as well." And the previous pain that had shown itself through Dec's eyes when I found him sitting all alone at the football field slowly started to make its way back up his throat as if it had never left.  
"How did they find out about it?"  
  
His eyes darkened as he looked directly at mine, hesitating for a moment before asking, "You promise you won't freak out?" I only replied by placing a reassuring kiss to the back of his trembling hand. Only then, did Declan open his mouth to let a massive train of words come out. "A little while ago I had a...meltdown. Apparently after a certainly heated argument with my father, I completely lost control and cut a little too deep into my wrists. I had to be rushed to the hospital immediately because when he was finally able to break into my room, I just couldn't afford to lose more blood. The doctors gave me a few stitches and a weekly appointment with a shrink after being in medical observation for over a month. Needless to say, every single person in our neighbourhood heard about it."  
  
A stray tear slid along his flushed cheek in an almost painful pace; Dec wiped his face furiously. "Thing is, you think you can stop it anytime you want, but the reality is you can't even restrict it to one part of your body. You just keep on doing it anyway because you believe you're doing no wrong; it feels good, so you don't even think you're hurting yourself. Soon enough, no matter where you are or with whom; the only thing you can wrap your mind around is the next time you’re alone, so you can… you know... And it's not exactly the cutting that you become addicted to, but the thrill you get when you're doing it..." Dec lowered his sight. "You must think I'm crazy."  
"No, you're just a little bit more complex than I had originally thought."  
  
A sporadic smile passed through his lips.  
  
"I know it's a bad thing... And I hadn't done it since a long time ago, but today was just awful, and-" I shushed him with my index finder and placed my hand on top of his, "It's okay; I understand that this is not easy for you."  
  
He sighed yet again before nuzzling into my neck. "I just wish everyone were like you."  
  
My heart began to pound faster in my chest as I instinctively lifted Dec's arm to my mouth to kiss each and every one of the healing scars on it. I felt his once shivering body relax more and more until he fell limp against my own. We remained like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and closeness, resting against each other while the rest of what had been a cigarette burned quietly on the ashtray beside us until it slowly died away.  
  
Two hours later we were driving along the relatively short distance to Dec's house; the glistening moon above us following suit. The windows were closed but at one point, he complained about being cold, so I offered him my jacked that had been uselessly sitting in the back seat of the car. He gave me a shy 'thanks' and placed the garment around his shoulders. As he handled the jacket, a thin, golden object fell from one of the pockets and made a grave thump as it collided with the hard surface beneath our feet. It was a golden pen that my mother had given me a while ago, when I graduated from university if I'm not mistaken. It had my name engraved on it in black ink. Declan looked at it appreciatively as he cradled it in his hands.   
  
"Never before did I stop to analyse how pretty your name sounds. Anthony David McPartlin. David. Anthony. Anthony...Ant."  
  
It was quite amusing to hear Dec rolling around my name on his tongue as if it was some sort of candy. Not only did it sound pretty, but also affectionate. "Can I call you Ant?"  
"I'd like that," I smiled.  
  
It wasn't long before we reached the three-story house with the dark red facade and the immense double doors. I pulled over and turned the engine off, but for some reason, my fingers only curled tighter around the steering wheel in a desperate, yet useless attempt to hold onto the moment for a bit longer.  
  
"I can't believe this is happening. You and me? I thought it was impossible," he told me. "Promise me something; promise this isn't going to end the minute I get out of your car, or when you see me tomorrow at school."  
"You have my word," I replied earnestly while slightly wondering in the back of my mind why he would ask such a thing. Despite the fact that every little part of my very being was practically screaming at me to run away, I had no intention of doing so at all, no matter what the consequences could be.  
  
Seemingly satisfied with my answer, Dec leaned forward and kissed me goodnight. The next words that came out of his mouth fell upon me like a light breeze, yet they hit me with the heaviness of a thunder storm. "There's one last thing I want you to know," he purred against my quivering lips.  
"Yes?"  
"I'm in love with you."  
  
Something inside of me went off like a bonfire shooting across the sky. Trying to identify the feelings and emotions that came as a result of such magical words is useless and beyond impossible. He gave me one last peck, then calmly pushed the door open and walked away without giving me so much as a second to answer anything. It was probably for the best because even when I finally arrived home after driving in circles around the empty streets for hours in order to clear my mind, I was still a pathetic loss for words.  
  
***  
  
Considering that the next morning I woke up with even less energy than the night before when I had gone to bed, it wasn't exactly surprising that I arrived to school about twenty minutes earlier than I usually did; however, it turned out that locking myself in my office to have a little time to think was not exactly a good idea either, for I had barely taken my seat in front of the desk when there was a gentle knock followed by the head teacher poking his head through the door without even waiting for the 'Come in!' indication.  
  
"Good morning, McPartlin!" he greeted me cheerfully.  
"Morning, sir. Is there anything in particular I can do for you?"  
"No, I was just on my way to the teacher's lounge to get myself some coffee and figured that if you were going to kick my ass over the fact that I skipped our drinking date yesterday, I might as well take it now and not in front of just about everybody at lunch."   
"Oh, I'm pretty sure that Simon is the one who will be doing the ass kicking; I may have skipped the drinking date as well."  
"My god, Anthony!" He exclaimed while fully entering my office to take a seat on the chair opposite to the desk. "What was so damn important that you passed on alcohol?"  
"Just a dinner invitation from my grandmother I had forgotten I had, but believe me, you do not want to mess with that old lady."  
"Well, either way sounds like you had a better time than I did."  
"What happened?"  
"Steven Mulhern."  
"What did he do this time?"  
  
He then launched into explaining the same story I had gone through the previous day with Professor Cowell, during which I had to pull the most shocked face as if I weren't perfectly aware of the situation. There was, however, a moment in which, upon hearing the head's hypothesis about Steven taking it personal with Declan, I let out a highly anticipated "You're right!" and he gave me questioning look as if saying 'Did you know about this?'  
  
"Oh well..." I started casually. "Declan and Steven had been having some problems in my class too. Apparently, Steven likes to make fun of Declan's...cutting issue." I let the words come out of my mouth without any further consideration, and without taking into account that they would get me in even deeper trouble.  
"How do you know about that? I thought it was specified on his private file; only the school counsellor and I are supposed to know about it."  
  
This is exactly why I chose not to feel anything all the time; feelings make you stupid, and my current attraction to certain young, adorable boy had definitely switched off my intelligence.  
  
I took in a huge breath and exhaled very slowly. "Ok, how can I explain this? Declan is one of my brightest students. Eventually, I noticed he was getting behind on his homework, and we ultimately agreed on the fact that he needed private tutoring. He's a very troubled kid; the minute I sat down to talk to him, he told me everything."  
"He told you everything?" The head repeated incredulous.  
"Why is it so hard to believe?"  
"Declan Donnelly doesn't talk to anyone; not to his psychiatrist, not to the school counsellor, not even to his own father! For all I know, his doctor has been trying to make him open up about the reason he attempted suicide for over eight months now, and you're telling me it only took you a few tutoring sessions to make him spit it out?"  
"It’s all about the approach, sir. My subject is meaningful to him because he loves literature, so it was not hard for him to trust me."  
  
My boss eyed me for a few more minutes, seemingly trying to process what I had just told him. Eventually he shrugged and snorted noisily. "Well, what do I know? Maybe you should be the counsellor instead of that petty Mr. Williams. Be careful, though, as you said, Declan is a very troubled kid. On the other hand, I need my caffeine fix now. See you at lunch, sir." He smiled warmly, then turned towards the door. I did not understand what he meant by _be careful_ , but I lost track of it anyway for yet another question came into my mind and I just couldn't keep my mouth shut about it. "Excuse me, sir; I need to know one last thing."  
"Yes, Mr. McPartlin?"  
"What will be Steven's punishment?"  
"Detention for a week. Goodbye!" He closed the door behind him.  
  
I just could not wrap my mind around it. He might have been a very flexible and friendly boss, but when it comes to keeping the discipline among students, the man was something close to a captain of the army. The reason why such an insignificant sanction was given to such an awful crime was unknown to me, but whatever it was; Steven was not going to get away with this. I decided to take the matter into my own hands; after all, since the first time Dec threw his arms around my neck, he became mine to protect, and I would be damned if I let that fucking moron harm him in any way again. I quickly stood up and left my office, my hands unconsciously curled into tight fists as I went over the entire school until I finally came across the exact person to whom I needed to talk.  
  
In a swift movement, I grasped his hand and led him to the cleaner's room, locking the door right behind us. I tried to breath, I tried to calm down, but the suspicious grin that appeared in the kid's face just made it all more difficult. I didn't know for how long I would be able to hold it together.  
  
"Just like the good old times, right Anth?"  
"Focus, Mulhern! The only reason I'm doing this is because I need to tell you something, and you'd better listen to me because I'll only say it once."  
Steven knitted his eyebrows sceptically. "I'm all ears."  
"You can mess with me all you want; I don't give a shit about you or your stupid tricks, but you'd better leave Declan Donnelly out of this because God help me if you don't. Do you hear me?" My anger was rising at levels that were unknown even to me.  
"Oh, so I take it the little bitch went crying to you about the stupid, insignificant joke we played on him."  
"He didn't have to; every single soul in this school knows what you did, and let me tell you something-"  
"I'm not scared of you, McPartlin."  
  
That was it; that was the last straw. I took him by the collar and forced him to look at me. "Don't you fucking dare interrupt me again while I'm speaking, do you hear me? You're going to apologise to Declan and you're going to clean up the mess you made on his locker; I don't give a shit if you have to use your goddamn tongue, I want that locker spotless by tomorrow morning." Then, I released him with such incredible force, that he went stumbling against the wall of the rickety closet. I turned for the door.  
  
"Or what?" I heard behind me.  
"Believe me, Steven; you do not want to find out. Don't test me. Remember who taught you everything you know?"  
  
That finally shut him up. I watched in delight as he pursed his lips once he realised there was no snarky comeback he could use this time. Satisfied with myself, I exited the small room, leaving him alone to figure out which chemicals he could mix in order to dissolve red spray paint.  
  
Back in my office, I didn't notice the white envelope that had been strategically placed on the very corner of my desk until I graced it with my fingers and it fell delicately to the floor with the lightness of a feather. When I opened it and took out the pale piece of paper placed inside, my heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Dear Ant,  
  
This is my favourite poem by William Blake; it is called _Love's Secret_. I'm sure you know it, but the reason I wanted to share it with you is that ever since the first time I laid eyes on you, it acquired a new meaning, and every time I read it, I can't help thinking of you. Please read it and see if you think about me too.  
  
_Never seek to tell thy love._  
_Love that never told can be;_  
_For the gentle wind doth move_  
_Silently, invisibly._  
  
_I told my love! I told my love!_  
_I told “him” all my heart,_  
_Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears:_  
_Ah! “He” did depart._  
  
_Soon after “he” was gone from me,_  
_A traveller came by._  
_Silently, invisibly:_  
_He took “him” with a sigh._  
  
What I told you yesterday is nothing but the truth. I guess love is not secret anymore.  
  
Love,  
  
Your baby."


	10. I Want To Tell You A Secret

About a month ago, the head had had some sort of moral epiphany that brought a project to enhance the school's overall academic level. I have to admit, this was a topic that was _often_ discussed in most teacher's meetings because of the worry that students wouldn't have the necessary tools to start college; therefore, when we heard about the new changes he intended to do with general curriculum of the school, we all had a little hope.  
  
Indeed, after reading it carefully, we all concluded that the theory of his project was absolutely brilliant, but I must say, easier _read_ than _done_ , and if I may add, utopic. The real problem was that he seemed to think that the alternation of pedagogical methods would help develop the student's learning process, but in reality, it could only cause large amounts of paperwork piling up in our desks because of the total reconstruction of the lessons for the course we needed to do.  
  
Taking care of all this paperwork took time; a lot of time to be specific, and I had to spend countless hours locked up in my secluded office while attempting to plan a class about Emily freaking Dickinson while outside, the rest of the day went away without leaving any kind of trace behind it, and let's just say that the analysis of pathetically thoughtful poems such as "Hope is the thing with feathers" was the very least of the issues dwelling around in my conscience.  
  
Just as it had happened the last time I had attempted to get any work done, the majority of my thoughts were focused on certain brown-haired young man whose sensual spell I had recently fallen victim of. The said thoughts went from how pleasant and enjoyable it had been to have him close --near enough to taste his lips and take in his scent-- to how quickly all of this was happening, and especially the highly anticipated _I love you_ that had me worrying about where this insane relationship was really going.  
  
Anyway, all that I knew at the moment was that no matter how confusing and sickening this relationship was, I wanted more of it, and I definitely wanted more of him; therefore, once classes were over, I couldn't run fast enough to get out of my office and find him. But once again, I went through the entire school over and over again until I ran out of places to look for him.  
  
Eventually, I gave up, and as I stood hopelessly in the middle of the car park, I stared at the empty spaces as if expecting he would appear magically out of nowhere, but there was no use. I finally got in my car and drove away while making up imaginary scenarios in which he might have found himself trapped in, either struggling with family matters or the always present menace of Steven Mulhern.  
  
I guess that at some point, I actually started to believe that he was safe only while being around me when in reality I was the villain, the shallow monster who wanted nothing but to take advantage of the kid's good will. I have to recognise that in that moment, I wasn't willing to accept it. Oh, no! In that moment, for all I care, Declan was mine and it was my responsibility to love him and protect him the way no one had been able to do so before.  
  
Specifically that day, I was quite looking forward to spending some more time alone with him for some reason, so I could get to know him a little bit better, get to know more about his story and especially, get some more of those sweet kisses only him and I could share. However, that afternoon, I ended up going home alone.  
  
Fucking fantastic.  
  
Ironically, loneliness had somehow managed to become something tedious and unbearable for once. This had never happened before; as I said, sex was pretty much all I needed to fulfill my need for human contact, but this time around I was not in control of my emotions anymore, let alone the knowledge of what I did and didn't need.  
  
I dreamt about Dec that night; just like the last time, we were making love in my bed again. This dream was precisely what convinced me that if I didn't get to see him soon, I would start to lose all sense of sanity I may have had left. You see, having to deal with the most annoying erection ever is not exactly part of a perfect morning. Eventually, after finally getting rid of it, I got up and went off to work. No sooner had I arrived to my office than I was informed that my boss had called all teachers for yet another improvised meeting about his goddamn academic curriculum.  
  
Once in the teacher's lounge, I took my seat and remained silent, but my mind was surely somewhere else while I pretended to patiently hear another tirade about holistic learning. I had never been one to mix work and personal affairs; however I kept thinking about my sweet, beautiful baby, and the more I tried to get him out of my mind, the more I realised it just could not be done. The day before, I folded the note he had left on my desk and saved it in my shirt pocket; needless to say, every time I remembered its content, my heart skipped a beat.  
  
It took about two hours and a half until the annoyingly redundant meeting was finally over and everybody went for their respective classrooms, but I was asked to stay a little bit longer so he could show me some of his ideas for the compulsory readings that were to be added to the English curriculum. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door; the sound brought us back to the present in time for the door to open as an unknown gentleman popped his head into the office.  
  
"Good morning, professors. May I come in?" the gentleman said cheerfully.  
  
The minute I saw him, I had the odd feeling that there was something hidden behind his smile. However, there was another aspect of him that came to my attention and caused me an even stronger curiosity at once: maybe it was the way he moved, the way he looked, the pitch in his voice, or the mix of all these elements together, but there was something about him that seemed awfully familiar in spite of not having seen him once in my entire life. Luckily for me, the answer to this question came quicker than I had expected.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Donnelly! Please, come in and take a seat," I heard my colleague say respectfully.  
  
My guts became a tight knot at once, right there in the spot. On one hand, the impression of being face to face with this man had caught me completely out of guard, and on the other I started to worry even more about the fact that something bad might have happened to Dec. It was then that I heard my boss saying, "This is Mr. McPartlin, our best English teacher; I'm sure you two haven't met before."  
  
We definitely hadn't, and without being fully recovered from the shock, I swallowed hard and adventured to speak; "Glad to meet you!"  
"Same here, Mr. McPartlin."  
"You're Declan's father, I presume."  
"You know my son?  
"Do I know him? He's one of my most brilliant students, actually."  
"Really?"  
"Indeed; Declan has a natural knack for literature and writing. I've never quite graded essays like the ones he turns in." _Besides the fact that he's hot as hell_ , I could've added.  
"Thank you; I have heard that from his previous teachers too; although, I must say he inherited his intelligence from his mother; English was always her best subject too."  
  
It was amazing how alike father and son were, yet what impressed me the most was that the same pain-filled hint remained present in both of their voices and features when they mentioned the name of that mysterious woman who had undoubtedly played a vital role in both of their lives. I hardly knew a thing or two about her from my talks with Dec, but it wasn't that difficult to assume that she was the main subject of this family's distress. I really couldn't help wondering about what could have happened to her in order to make them so miserable.  
  
After our kind exchange of pleasantries, I was asked if we could finish discussing the topic of the readings at first hour next morning. I quickly took the opportunity to excuse myself and headed for the door. I was actually relieved once I finally stepped out of the room and into the hallway. I directed towards my office retrieve a mug for a cup of steaming coffee along with some time alone, which was exactly what I needed at the moment. Unfortunately I didn't know that in reality, my problems were still far from coming to an end.  
  
Turns out, when I was going back to my classroom, I ran into Declan's father, Dec's father out of all the people I wanted to avoid. I apologised nervously and attempted to walk away but he gently took my arm, "Wait, Mr. McPartlin, right?"  
"Yes, sir. Hmm, is there any way I can help you?" I could hardly fake a smile.  
"Well, actually, I just wanted to let you know that Declan is staying with his grandparents in Ireland and he will be absent from school for about a month."  
"Oh! Umm, okay." What? Really? Staying with his grandparents in Ireland? God, how I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs! What the fuck was I gonna do for a month? A lot of mixed emotions started rushing through me; however, there was nothing left to do except smile and act as if nothing was happening.   
  
"Thanks so much for letting me know, Mr. Donnelly; I'll make sure to take note of it. Did you talk about this in your meeting before?"  
"Aye, I did. But actually, there's another thing I needed to discuss with you," the man said gently.  
"Yes?"  
"The head tells me you have been private tutoring my son for a while now. And he also tells me that apparently, he also... _talks_ to you, actually _talks_ to you." The gentleman's voice started to tremble so slightly that it almost went unnoticed.  
"Sir, would you like to discuss this somewhere more private?"  
"It's okay; I promise not to take much of your time anyway."  
  
Still fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, Dec's father decided to go straight to the point. "I'm almost sure that by this time, you are aware of most of the problematic situation my family is going through at the moment."  
"Yes, sir; I am."  
"You know that his mother _left_ us barely a year ago."  
"Well, Declan did mention something about the matter."  
"What you don't know is how bad it got. His grades dropped from excellent to average in less than a month; he started having nightmares every night and he was barely able to get any sleep. Then he started cutting his arms. The school counsellor told me to take him to a specialist because he needed urgent help. I took him to a psychologist who diagnosed him with chronic depression and personality disorder, then sent him to a psychiatrist; the psychiatrist did nothing but give him a handful of antidepressants and sleeping pills that he refused to take because they made him feel even more stressed and upset than before. Nothing seemed to work! All of them doctors were about to give up on him."  
"I know, sir."  
"I was afraid he would never get better."  
"Well, Declan _is_ a very reserved kid, and he _does_ have a strong personality."  
"Just the fact that he agreed to go see his grandparents is really important to me; before this, he wouldn't even leave his room! My point here, Mr. McPartlin is...thank you."  
"Oh, there's no need to do that, Mr. Donnelly."  
"No, really; in only a few weeks you accomplished what all of us couldn't, and you managed to give me some hope in the process. I really do care about my boy; he's my youngest son and this entire situation with his mother was far from being his fault, yet I'm afraid the little one is getting the worse of it. You don't know how much it terrifies me that he might do something stupid. He's already attempted suicide once."  
  
I knew he was right, and there's nothing I wanted more than to tell him that I would often worry about the exact same thing, that I loved his son with all my heart and that I would do anything to protect him, but how could I have said such thing? It was obvious that he didn't have a clue about what was going on between the two of us, luckily for me, but that made me feel ever guiltier for addressing him like any other honorable teacher would.  
  
To top it all off, I came up with the most ridiculous and inappropriate cliché I could have ever mustered as a response to his last sentence, "As your son's teacher, it's only to my obligation to do what I can to help him. Don't worry; we'll get him through this." Then I shook his hand respectfully.  
  
Finally, Mr. Donnelly left with nothing but the wrong impression of me, the general impression the world have, or used to have about me, the same impression that worried me so much because of the possibility of Declan finding out who I actually was. I too left the school that day with a great deal of strange feelings revolving themselves inside my guts. I wondered when I would get any rest from this entire situation.  
  
To find Steven Mulhern sitting comfortably on the bonnet of my car when I got to the car park didn't help much either and I growled in frustration as I came closer and closer to him. My head started to throb painfully as if I had developed some kind of allergic reaction towards the kid.  
  
"What are you doing here, Mulhern?" I said tiredly.  
"Don't flatter yourself, _sir_ ; the only reason I'm here is to tell you that I did what you told me."  
"What on earth do you mean?"  
"Donnelly's locker, I cleaned it. I won't come closer to the poor drama queen again."  
"Really?"  
"On one condition."  
"Of course!" I quipped; this persistent brat wasn't going to miss any opportunity to screw me over.  
  
Steven hoped off from my car and said solemnly, "I want us to be together one last time; then I will leave the cry baby alone."   
"Steven, what the hell are you talking about?"  
"Is it that difficult to understand? You and I fuck one last time and then you decide whether you want to stay with me or go and be happy with the little bitch."  
"You cannot be serious." Well, apparently he was. It was just rich how I had turned this pathetic homophobe into a gay sex lover.  
"C'mon, _baby_ , we used to have so much fun together. If you don't remember, at least give me the chance to refresh your memory." He said while trying to wrap his arms around me.   
  
Any other day, I would have fallen right into the trap; however, the mention of a particular word, _baby_ , made me feel sick to my stomach at once and I impulsively shove the annoying lad away from me. "I feel sorry for you. I really do, Steven," I told him; he just stood there, arms crossed over his chest and a frown plastered on his face.  
  
"What would your mates say if they saw you like this, begging for sex like a cheap prostitute?"  
"You know what, Mr. McPartlin?" he said accusingly, "You're surely the stupidest man I have ever met. You can have _me_ any time you want, so why do you prefer _him_?"  
"Stop kidding yourself. Nothing ever happened between us and nothing ever will, nor will it happen with Declan Donnelly. You're my students and I'm your teacher."  
"Were you my teacher all those times I sucked you off during lunch? What would happen if I cry 'rape'? What would everyone say?"  
  
I laughed. "You have to be kidding me. Do you really think they're gonna believe you?"   
"There's gonna be an investigation nonetheless, and when they find our pictures in your house, I bet you will have another thing coming."  
"Oh, Steven; even if those pictures existed, would you really want them to be seen?"  
  
He looked down. I had him trapped and he knew it.  
  
"Whatever you say, it's my word against yours; the word of a long time experienced teacher with an irreproachable conduct against the word of a troublemaker whose parents have to pay for his grades in order for him not to get thrown out of school."  
  
Steven was speechless, but that always present smirk that was a clear characteristic of his face remained immaculately still on his lips. "Maybe we'll have to wait and see what happens," he retorted finally.  
"Fine by me! You don't know how much I'd like to see you try and call out on me. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go home and take a long, relaxing bath."  
  
I got into my car, placed the key in the ignition and pressed the speed pedal.  
  
***  
  
Two entire weeks went by before keeping myself busy at school stopped working and I really started to miss Dec.  
  
My colleagues were also charged with work, so whenever I finished mine, I would often offer to give them a hand. I would also meet up with Professor Cowell almost every afternoon to have a drink or two at the local bar.  
  
In short, I arranged my schedule in such a way that I hardly had any spare time to even think, and by the end of the day I would be so tired and beaten up that I'd fell asleep before my body hit the bed. However, there was always something missing; I felt sort of...empty.  
  
In spite of all the activities I had taken up in the last couple of weeks, it seemed like there was always an instant or two in which my mind would wander to all those moments we had shared together. _It's only a month,_ I kept repeating to myself over and over again until that phrase became void of any sense. So many issues had remained unsolved that I really didn't know how much longer I would be able to avoid the fact that I missed him like crazy.  
  
How was it possible? When did it happen? How could I have lost my self-control so easily? I finally came to a conclusion: the answer to all of those questions and the ones that kept on coming didn't really matter; at some point I would have to admit that I had undoubtedly fallen in love with my sixteen year old student.  
  
But then, there was this one day at the office when I was too focused on grading some essays originally turned in to Professor Cowell. All of a sudden, there were several incredibly loud knocks on my door, and I looked up, startled.  
  
_Bang, bang, bang..._  
  
"Come in!" I repeated three times, but the person outside wouldn't stop knocking. My heart started racing as I stood from my chair and walked slowly towards the door. As soon as I turned the handle, my baby entered suddenly into my office and smashed the door shut before quickly jumping to my arms. "Hi!" he screamed happily before giving my nose a quick peck and embracing me tightly.  
  
The only functioning limbs of my body were my arms, which luckily managed to catch Declan as he threw himself at me. My voice, on the other hand, refused to come out as I shook my head in disbelief. I stuttered a few incoherent phrases and he just stared at me with that gorgeous smile that I had missed so much, not even trying to refrain from showing the amusement my surprise was causing him.  
  
Giggling delicately, he tightened the grip his legs had around my waist as he spoke "Ant...you don't know how glad I am to be back."  
"I-I thought you were supposed to spend-"  
"What? A whole month away from you? No way!"  
"But how did you-?"  
"Does it really matter? I just wanted to get back and- Didn't you miss me?" Dec asked with a hint of disappointment in his tone.  
  
Words were just not enough to express how much I had needed him those past weeks. To have him in my arms was just about enough to send me over the edge. I placed him gently on top of my desk and grabbed his face; then I looked deep into those blue-green pools that were staring back at me with the most expectant innocence I hadn't really appreciated until then, and gently pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling immediately how his chest swelled with anticipation.  
  
I instantly backed down. "Is it something wrong?"  
"No! Nothing at all! It's just that...this is still so new for me, that I still feel butterflies in my stomach whenever you're near me. Can we try again?"  
"Come here," I said before brushing his luscious lips with my impatient mouth; his legs parted a bit more to allow an even more intimate closeness between us and his arms enclosed around my shoulders. We finally engaged in a deep, wet kiss that left us both moaning and wishing for more. God, if we hadn't been at school, I would have taken him to my bedroom and shown him a proper make out session, but eventually, we had to stop.  
  
"Does that answer your initial question?" I asked smugly.   
"I guess you did miss me," Dec let out a cute giggle before his legs dropped down to the floor again. It was then that the intercom started buzzing annoyingly and the sharp voice of head secretary commanded me to go straight to his office. Apparently, he needed urgent help with some kind of trivial matter.  
  
"I have to take that. You should go to class too, baby."  
"Fine, but we'll go to your place later, right?"  
I smiled sweetly at him and nodded; apparently, that kiss had him going as much as it did me. "Great! I can't wait to be alone with you again," he pecked me swiftly, then left me alone with my thoughts.  
  
School day finished, I walked eagerly towards the exit through the corridors, sorting students here and there. Dec was already there, leaning on the wall beside the fire alarm; he winked at me and bit his lower lip briefly as he stood up and crossed the school door, undoubtedly heading for my car at the parking lot. We exchanged shy smiles and headed home in silence.  
  
***  
  
"I want us to do something fun tonight." Declan mused as we entered home and he started taking off my jacket. I raised an eyebrow sceptically as I watched his actions in order to make him realise the double sense present in what he was just saying to me.  
"Not that..." He blushed and looked away, "At least not yet."  
"Hmm, Decs?"  
He dedicated me a shy smirk.  
  
"What do you say we arrange some sort of romantic dinner?" he wriggled his small hips excitedly after having jumped onto the living room leather couch. I couldn't suppress a small giggle. "What do you mean by _romantic dinner_? You want to dine out?"  
"Actually, I was thinking we could cook spaghetti bolognese and open a bottle of red wine. We might put roses on a small vase and light up some candles too. We might even have strawberries with chocolate for dessert, and-."  
"Dec! Dec!" I laughed "One idea per minute please. All this sounds real beautiful and all, but-"  
"Please?"  
"Well, how can I say no to you?"  
  
Declan's eyes lit up. We came closer and shared a small kiss. Of course, we needed to get back into the car and drive to the farthest supermarket we could find to buy all we needed for our romantic dinner, but I have to admit that he was worth it. We ended up loading the trolley with all kind of objects and food that came across our way. At some point I lifted Dec and loaded him in as well. The great thing about being so far away from our neighbourhood was that we could easily hold hands, tickle each other, share kisses and hugs without attracting any unwanted attention.  
  
Once in the kitchen, he proved to be a great chef; his mother had done an amazing job teaching him how to cook, he said. I thought it might be a good opportunity to ask him about the matter, or at least tell him that his father had come by the school or anything, but I really didn’t want to take that risk. To put him in a bad mood was the last thing I wanted, and I eventually decided it was just not the time to talk about it.  
  
It took us a great amount of work to put everything together, but once the room was lit up with nothing but candles, and the table was set with white roses, two porcelain plates and a bottle of red wine, we sat across each other and sighed deeply, not really knowing whether this was incredibly tender, or just incredibly stupid.  
  
Having finished our dinner, Dec offered me one of those irresistible smiles I already loved so much, and I started to wonder what he was up to now; my answer came sooner that I had expected. "May I have a glass of wine?" he asked delicately.  
"No, you may not! I don't want any illegal drinking in my house!"  
"But I'm almost 17!" he pouted; the way his bottom lip contorted never failed to amused me.  
"Declan, I told you once and I tell you again, you can't have alcohol."  
"I can, and I will."  
  
Dec wasn’t joking by any means; he stood up and came to sit on my lap. Facing the table, he poured a great amount of the red liquid in my own glass, took a sip, and then turned to me. "See?"  
"You little brat," I told him jokingly while placing my hands on his hips. The back of his neck was right in front of my mouth and before I knew it, I had attached my lips to it and my teeth soon started nibbling at his tender skin. He squirmed with delight before closing his eyes and putting his wine away. "Ant" he purred, "that feels...really nice."  
  
I just couldn't seem to stop; Dec spread his legs and leaned further against my awaiting body once again to avoid falling down from the chair. Then I watched as skilled little fingers unbuttoned Dec's white shirt a little as an open invitation for me to caress his smooth chest. "I want to tell you a secret," he said while guiding my fingers straight to his hardening nipples.  
"Go ahead."  
My young lover started giggling shamelessly as I ran my tongue along his goosebump filled skin. "Well...it's a little embarrassing."  
"C'mon, baby; just tell me."  
"Well...I really missed you when I was at my grandparents' house."  
"You did?"  
"Yeah; in fact I missed you so much that I kind of..."  
"Aye?"  
"It's something dirty."  
"Just say it."  
"I touched myself while thinking of you."  
"You what?"  
  
The mere mention of that was enough to make my dick rock hard inside my pants. Dec was no innocent in this matter; the kid knew perfectly well what he was doing to me, and what finally came to prove it was the way he began grinding his little ass against my lap. "I kept imagining it was your hand instead of mine while I was doing it," he paused a moment. "What I'm trying to get at, Ant, is... I want you to touch me for real...you know...down there."  
  
There was no time for me to think about that blunt statement; my body appeared to have gained a mind on its own; Declan's words had had quite a great effect on me and my hands could not help but slide downwards, slow and carefully as my fingertips ran over every single inch of my baby's stomach. I finally reached my destination; Dec's breath caught up in his throat as I unbuttoned his pants and let my right hand into the frontal opening of his boxers.  
  
His whole body arched up as the first contact was made; I pumped steadily one, two, three times before Dec bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and smashed his head against my shoulder, hungrily seeking my mouth. Next thing that followed was his sensual lips kissing mine as my hand moved up and down his erection, fingers enclosing occasionally around the base to increase pleasure.  
  
By then, I'm proud to say that I had him moaning loudly as I sped up my rhythm. Sometimes I can still feel his arms around my neck, his body shaking wildly as the first spasms of an upcoming orgasm started to form in his gut. He pleaded me not to stop and that is exactly what I gave him. As we kept on moving at an ever quicker pace, my own dick rubbing up against my young lover's clothed ass, Dec started thrusting into my grip, screaming my name repeatedly. Indeed, it wasn't long before I felt his come splashing against the fabric of his boxers, as well as mine sinking through my trousers. We had undoubtedly made a tremendous mess, but definitely a beautiful one.  
  
It took a little while before our breathing rhythm could go back to normal, but eventually, we sighed contently and snuggle against each other. “Let’s go to your bed and lie down for a bit,” he whispered.


	11. I Have Something I Want To Give You

The heavy curtains of my bedroom window were conveniently open, offering us both a romantic view of the sunset. Light rain had started to fall, and I watched delightedly as tiny, crystalline droplets of water splashed against the glass before silently rushing downwards.  
  
The entire scene looked pretty much like an epic dream to me, the kind you are bound to read only in literature, except this one was real. But maybe it wasn't; after all, the sensations stirred in me by such a scene could only compare to those you get when you're under the influence of some kind of hard drug, and let me tell you something, this specific drug named Declan Donnelly caused some real powerful, hallucinating effects that were more than capable of erasing all trace of reality from my weakened mind. Hence, I knew I could not trust my eyes, nor my senses anymore.  
  
There was something hidden within my previous analogy that would inevitably make me smile: that something was irony, evident irony. If I recalled correctly, right before our first kiss, Dec told me I was more addicting than any razor he'd had in his hands before; yet, like many other aspects in this relationship, this situation had managed to turn upside down. In other words, roles have managed to reverse once again.   
  
It was then that I looked down and contemplated the gorgeous vision placed beside me on the bed: Declan was lying comfortably on his side while calmly smoking a cigarette. I snuggled close behind him, unconsciously running my hand all along his body. He didn't say anything; the only audible sound that could be heard in the bedroom was a tiny gasp, or a muffled moan trying hard to escape his throat every time I pressed my lips to the back of his neck.  
  
The smell of nicotine flying in the air soon filled my nostrils and reminded me of the very first time we had been alone in my studio. Back then, things had gone on smoothly, and I marvelled at how effortlessly Dec had managed to seduce me with that sweet, delicate innocence of his. Certainly, the very first time I actually paid some attention to him, it was mere lust that he had aroused in me, and I never planned on coming closer to any other feeling, but what can I say? I guess it just happened. Was it that somewhere along the line that the lust I had initially experienced morphed into something far more complicated and dangerous? Was it _love_?  
  
In spite of knowing how ridiculous it's going to sound from where you're standing, I just have to admit that I was scared. I'm not lying when I say I had hardly felt like this about anyone before, and I wasn't lying to Dec either when I told him I had been in love before, but this was certainly different. The real problem was I had no idea how to explain this _new kind_ of _different_.  
  
There was, however, one thing I could tell for sure: we were moving forward; this relationship was moving forward, regardless of whether we wanted it to or not. Maybe it wasn't quite defined yet in what I considered to be the most awfully cheesy terms of "boyfriend and boyfriend" but that didn't really matter anyway, for it was completely unnecessary. At that point, I consider we were more than that.  
  
I wondered if he knew about it, if he had a clue about what was really going on between the two of us, and my first impression was that he did, but there was no way on earth he was aware of the actual implications of our being together. I knew for a fact that Dec had deep, strong feelings for me, but what somehow managed to create havoc in the course of my thoughts was if the only reason he thought he loved me was that I was functioning as an outlet from his home life and complicated world in general. I still hadn't forgotten about the medical diagnosis I had read about in his private file, or the talk I'd had with his father and other teachers, and I figured that if I was really going to go through this, I needed to help him in any way I could. I was strong and positively sure I wanted to do everything in my power and beyond to help him crawl out of that damn whole in which God or whatever other force had dumped him in. I felt like I owed it to him.  
  
Lots of inquiries remained floating around in the air, and the minute I thought I had figured out the answer to any of them, more questions surfaced almost at the same time, one after another in an endless, maddening hurricane. But then again, whenever Dec appeared before my line of vision, my entire world became a white canvas all over again; it was a vicious cycle which never seemed to come to an end.  
  
I admit that my mind was wandering, but I knew that this complex train of thought I seemed to be trapped in wouldn't last much longer, for the pleasurable climax I had recently experienced had left me quite exhausted, and the relative sleepiness that came along with it was already starting to take over my senses, relaxing my body, making me want nothing more than to crawl in bed with my pretty baby so that we could stay like that until next morning.  
  
In that moment he incorporated slightly, and reached out for the ashtray placed on the night stand. As Declan was putting out the remains of his cigarette, his pale skin made contact with the subtle shining of the last sun rays coming through the window, and it glowed as if he had just stepped onto the spotlight on the middle of a stage. Then, my eyes fell on three particular pink lines crossing his wrist, causing an odd shiver to run sullenly through my spine.  
  
He turned to lie on his back, before fixating his dazzling eyes on me. I could feel my heartbeat accelerating as his gaze followed the direction of my eyes; he would inevitably figure out what I was thinking.  
  
"These ones healed faster for some reason," He said humbly. "I keep thinking you had something to do with it."  
  
I can't deny that I was deeply moved by this statement, but deep down, I knew I'd had absolutely nothing _to do with it_ , and how I wished I would have had the words to tell him that _he_ was the one healing _me_ , and not the other way around; yet there was another question wandering in my mind at that exact moment though. "Declan, have you-"  
"No, I haven't cut, and you don't really have to worry because I won't do it anymore."  
"Is that a promise?"  
"Yes, yes it is," he said shyly. "As long as you're with me, I guess I-"  
"No, don't say that; I'm positively sure you're gonna get better with or without me."  
"Of course I will, but I'd rather you're with me in the process." The younger boy remarked delicately. "Promise me you will be there with me."  
"Always," I stated decisively. That being said, I watched Dec smile at me before standing up and leaving the bed. He stripped from his shirt and carefully tossed it away. He soon started undoing his jeans too.  
  
"What exactly are you trying to pull here, baby?" I asked amusedly.  
"Nothing!" he was quick to assure me. "It's just that I feel awfully dirty and I urgently need to take a shower." Stopping to consider his next sentence, he made a slight pause. "You're welcome to join me if you want to," He finally said. I silently nodded my head.  
  
I can't even begin to explain how incredibly adorable the mixture of sweetness and wit his personality seemed to have acquired now that we had left behind every student-teacher boundary that may have stopped us in the past.  
  
He took me by the hand and compelled me to lift my tired body off the comfort of my bed, pushing away every bit of sleepiness I may have had left. We took our time walking to the bathroom, stopping here and there to help the each other out of our clothes. Once the last item of clothing had abandoned my form, Dec stared at me astonishingly while running his hands up and down my chest. His cheeks turned an adorable shade of red, which gave me the tender impression that this was the very first time he ever did something like this.   
  
I realised then that I had never taken the trouble to ask Dec about his sexual preferences. From my part, I always managed to find something quite alluring in each of both sexes, but I was totally in the dark about Declan. A few weeks before that night, it wouldn't have mattered if my baby was gay, straight, or anything in between, for my sick, demented method to get students into my bed was designed to work its magic both ways. However, this was one of the many questions that would remain unanswered to me; at least until the right moment of openly asking them came.  
  
I admit that I wouldn't have been able to keep on with my train of thought if my life had depended on it. Declan was demanding all of my attention in that moment, and I was only happy to lose the battle. He tilted his head, and I soon felt the warmth of his lips pressed against my chest. I grabbed his waist and gently pulled him closer towards me, as once again I began to feel that impending need to leave absolutely no space between our bodies.  
  
Somehow understanding this unspoken necessity of mine, Dec surrounded my neck with his arms before flashing up his innocent stare at me with his mouth parted slightly to speak. "Ant, I think I-" he started, but he didn't have to finish that sentence for me to figure out in advance what he was going to say. I immediately shushed him with my index finger before there was no way back. It was definitely not the moment for those words to be pronounced.  
  
"Come here, baby;" I said, "Let's take this into the bath, shall we?"  
"Yes, please." Dec murmured, and his eyes lit up. It seemed to me like I had skilfully managed to dodge the ball for the moment; I was quite certain that one day, my feelings towards this sweet boy would hit me in the face enough times for me to figure them out, and I'd be able to properly express those feelings to him the way he deserved it.  
  
Once inside the bathroom, I handled the knobs until the water reached an enjoyable lukewarm temperature. Dec set two towels on top of the lid of the toilet and stepped into the tub. Luckily, we didn't have to fumble much with the other's limbs before finding a comfortable and peaceful position. What do I know? Maybe our bodies were meant for each other and they had been designed to fit like two stray pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.  
  
Then, starting from where we had left off in the bedroom, my gorgeous little baby leaned towards me and our lips connected again in a passionate, heated kiss. Our tongues danced for a while, and I made an effort to remember the exact movements Dec liked the most when we were kissing. I knew he loved it when I bit his luscious bottom lip, and that his breath would falter when I unexpectedly stuck my tongue into his mouth to give his a sensual massage. The truth is, kissing had never felt better with anyone before.  
  
He had learned way too quickly how to turn me on as well. He knew what his precious little body did to me, and he always took advantage of it by rubbing it deliciously against mine. He knew I loved to feel I was in control, so he usually wrapped his arms around me as if asking to be protected. Little details like these made me want him, need him, even more, and the more I convinced myself these moments just couldn't get better, the more we discovered something new that was unknown even to ourselves.  
  
Fortunately, our tongues were not the only ones moving; our fingers quickly started exploring each other's skin. Declan was really curious about being with another man, or so I could tell by the way his eager little hands ran smoothly all over me. A familiar sensation started to form in my gut; there was no doubt in my mind about what it was; I could feel the heat growing between my legs, and obviously, Dec would soon feel it too.  
  
It wasn't long before I felt his palm enclosing around my hardening member. He pumped it slowly at first, just running his fingers up and down, but then he began squeezing the base a little, occasionally gracing the tip with the pad of his thumb, reproducing almost the exact movements I had made a few hours earlier when we had been engaged in a certain activity of the same kind. I was about ready to explode.  
  
"God, I've waited too long to touch you like this, Ant," Dec cooed in my ear after readjusting his position to kneel between my parted legs. The sight of the boy's curious eyes filled with such innocent lust was enough of a turn on for me, but the softness of his voice was able to work even greater wonders inside me. I shut my eyes and threw my head back as intense waves of pleasure shook my shivering body from head to toe.  
  
The rhythm of that heavenly hand increased before I felt a set of wet lips attached to my neck. My arm flew around him to press him against me as my hips thrust into that iron grip that had me about to come. It was then that I became aware of certain rigidness poking my right thigh, and I realised that Dec needed some attention too. As if it had gained a mind on its own, my hand quickly fled to his cock, and I began rubbing it harshly, just like he was doing with mine. We settled for a faster pace that increased within every second; soon enough, Declan was desperately urging me to hold him while he pressed both of our weeping erections together and rubbed them in a crazy motion. Once again, we came at the same time, screaming the other's name loudly into the open air.  
  
We lied still for a couple of minutes, letting the last shivers of our coordinated orgasm wash over our tired forms.  
  
"So much for cleaning ourselves up," Dec murmured.  
  
***  
  
Our precious time together, locked away from the world eventually had to come to an end; everything in life that was worth the wait always had.  
  
Dec and I got dressed while enveloped in a comfortable silence. I offered to give him a ride home, but he courteously shook his head and asked if we could walk instead, so I put the car keys back in the night table drawer and took his hand in mine.  
  
"It's a beautiful night, isn't it, Ant?"  
  
I took a look around me; the cold night breeze was glowing underneath the light coming from the street lamps, and my still heated skin was being refreshed by the humid air around me. I used to go on a nocturnal walk every now and then to relax and clear my thoughts after a particularly busy day at work. But I admit I'd never contemplated anything like this gorgeous suburban scene we were now part of.  
  
"It's certainly is, baby," I said, agreeing with his previous question. Dec squeezed my hand as he leaned in to me. I kissed the top of his head, taking a minute to enjoy the sweet scent of his shampoo in the younger boy's hair before surrounding his shoulders with my arm.  
  
"May I ask you something?" His little voice broke the silence of the night.  
"Well, you usually ask whatever you want to know regardless of me telling you I hate questions."  
Dec giggled childishly. "My bad. What I've been meaning to ask you is: how come you started noticing me all of a sudden?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"C'mon, we both know what we mean. Now we're here, holding hands, calling each other by our first names, but two months ago you wouldn't even look at me."  
"That is not true," I retorted.  
"Of course it is! I would practically daydream in Literature while you were standing at the front of the class, lecturing about the underrated narrative style of Edgar Allan Poe, and there wasn't a single time I can remember you stopped a minute and look at me."  
  
Poe was one of my favourite writers; I usually started the first lesson of the course by giving a presentation about the infamous Boston writer, so I understood perfectly what Declan was referring to.  
  
"How was I supposed to know? You always sit at the back of the room and refuse to take part in any of the class activities. You had to come into my office and ask for an extension to your Modernism essay before I was finally able to set my eyes on you."  
"Yet, you said no."  
"But then I said yes."  
"I'm glad you did. I had really started to think I was the stupidest person on Earth for falling in love with you."  
"I get it, I was a complete asshole."  
"No, you're just a great teacher."  
  
_If only..._ I thought. _If only..._  
  
We kept walking for a few more blocks before the dark red facade of Declan's house appeared majestically before us. We stopped some feet aware from the doorway, reluctant to let go of the other's hand. "Listen, I have something I want to give you," Dec said.  
"Great! Am I getting a second book marker? Quite frankly, I'd love another one."  
He just rolled his eyes and offered me a playful grin.  
  
My eyes followed his hands as he reached into his left pocket and fidgeted with the fabric for a while until he came up with a little white plastic box; it had been sealed with a piece of red ribbon, which I untied effortlessly once I had it in my hands.  
  
"I'm giving this to you because you're the only person I can trust," Dec said. I took one more look at him before removing the top lip. A small, shiny razor blade lied there, looking as innocent and harmless as any other random object would; only, I knew exactly what my baby had been using it for.  
  
"It's my last one, I promise," he rushed to say. "It gave me comfort when I most needed it, but it's now time to move on. So, please take it as a reminder of the promise I made to you today."  
  
Truth is, this relationship that I had once called sick was not made of shits and giggles anymore; this was for real. Perhaps, Declan was the only one capable of destroying that evil shadow in me that resembled that one present in Dorian Grey. Based on this assumption, I started to believe that this time around, the classic story written centuries ago by Oscar Wilde would have quite a different closure.


End file.
